#I'm saying that every time any character is meant to hide something

[epicfirestormer]

Okay so I have no idea if anyone has pointed this out before or not, but I haven't seen anyone talk about it, so I guess I'll do it.

In Chapter 944, Kid says thay Killer wears a mask because he would beat up people who made fun of his laugh and decided to hide it by wearing a mask one day. Which is like, the weirdest reason I've ever heard.

How exactly does wearing a mask meant to hide his laugh?? It's not soundproof, we know that for sure, because 1. He talks normally and doesn't sound muffled at all, and 2. We can still hear his laugh. We see this in the raid during Act 3, multiple times. So, what's the point??

Is he functioning on the logic of "if no one can see me physically laugh, they can't make fun of me for it"? Which is like, I guess makes some sense, but still feels like a stretch.

Technically speaking, covering his face has close to nothing to do with stopping his laugh. Because it doesn't. It's to hide his face.

Killer wasn't made fun of because of his laugh. It was because of his face- or more accurately, his third eye. In this essay I will-

[flowerandblood]

The Lost Haven (10/16)

[ modern mafia • Aemond x niece • female ]

[ warnings: incest obviously, unprotected sex, smut, the angst, squirting, semi-public intimacy, description drug overdose, violence, uncomfortable conversations, bad, bad things ]

[ description: The vacation from eight years ago still haunts his memories and doesn't let him forget what happened between him and his niece, the daughter of his sister and Harwin Strong. Their paths separate and he immerses himself in his father's mafia world until the day she calls him for the first time since those events. Sexual tension, dark, dangerous, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: As promised, this is another, this time official modern version of The Fall from the Heavens. In this version, Daemon is not related to the family, but is simply Rhaenyra's husband and the leader of the second gang, Alys and Larys are also not related to each other, but Larys is Harwin's brother. I will partly refer to the original series, hiding some easter eggs, and some will be a completely new, fresh plot. As in every universe, only Aemond calls her Rhaenys and this is not her real name (she is unnamed character and the others also do not know that he calls her that). There will be a lot more brutality and angst in this version, so watch out. You can read this as a standalone story.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond & Rhaenys Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

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Although she hadn't written him back since their rather tumultuous phone call, her uncle had tried to soothe her anger by sending her pictures and videos of Vhagar at various frames and times of the day.

Through this, in the morning she would see her owner pouring food into her bowl, ordering her to stay still, listening to her squeals of impatience, then she could see her proudly carrying a big stick between her sharp fangs, and in the evening she would listen to him recording close-up footage of her dark eyes and wet nose asking her if she had missed her, with Vhagar then licking his phone.

She knew it was wrong, but some part of her felt happy about it and waited impatiently for each new message from him, because even though she didn't write him back she knew what he meant to tell her in this way: he wanted her to understand that he thought of her every day, anytime, anywhere.

She waited impatiently for news that would doom him in her eyes definitively, words from Daemon that he had killed someone again, hurt someone again, any confirmation that he was unable to change, that there was no going back for him.

There was something touching in that realisation, in the thought that he wasn't lying when he said he cared.

They both risked keeping in touch and because of that she had to have two phone cards to avoid attracting Daemon's attention, but other than that her uncle didn't try to call her or approach her, respecting her personal space.

He, however, surprised her by calling her one afternoon while she was in class. She didn't know what to do for a moment and then left the room to the surprise of everyone gathered, apologising to her professor, saying it was an urgent matter, led away by Robb's anxious, watchful gaze.

He hadn't spoken to her since his confrontation with her uncle, and she felt bad about it, but preferred not to approach him.

She had made the mistake of telling him too much and now she had to pay for it.

She sighed heavily as she stepped out into the corridor and answered, putting her phone to her ear.

"Aemond, you can't call me. Is something wrong?" She asked simultaneously frustrated and horrified.

"I got in. I passed the exam." He said excitedly, loud and clear, like a small child boasting to his mother that he had got the best mark in the class.

She blinked and shook her head, smiling involuntarily, feeling relieved at the thought that perhaps there was still hope for him.

He was really trying.

"I'm proud of you. I really am." She confessed from the bottom of her heart, wanting him to feel appreciated, to know that this was the right path for him and that she would support him in it without looking at what he had done to her in the past.

"Let's meet to celebrate. Please." He muttered, and she felt discomfort in her stomach, her whole body tensed.

"No." She said immediately, feeling fear, thinking this was another trap, another excuse to weaken Daemon.

"Just for a moment. In a public place, in a restaurant, in a café. Wherever you want, wherever you feel safe." He insisted, a plea in his voice from which she felt a sting in her heart, longing to see him and needing to keep him at bay.

"I can't, Aemond. You know I can't. I will always support you, including about your studies, but after what has happened I can't trust you." She said in a trembling voice, wanting to be honest with him.

She felt he deserved it.

She heard him swallow hard and fell silent for a long moment, making her feel remorseful, her heart pounding like mad.

"– forgive me – I had no right to ask you to do this – it was a mistake resulting from my selfishness – thank you for everything –" He said in a tone from which she felt an unpleasant shudder of self-regret, because some part of her wanted to please him, to be with him, to be happy with him, to make love to him.

But that was not enough.

"– Aemond –" She muttered, but he hung up, leaving her with an unpleasant, uncomfortable void in her heart.

She pressed her lips together and took a deep breath, trying not to cry, thinking that she had done the right and sensible thing, that she had to look out for herself and not cross the line she had drawn for herself.

It was better for her and for him.

However, she couldn't stop the unpleasant feeling of disappointment and sadness when he didn't send her any photos or messages that day or any day after. She thought that he was punishing her in this way and that it was a painful form of manipulation on his part to which she could not react.

He wanted to break her, to force her to be with him again, to make her feel remorse and let him do what he wanted with her.

She was not going to make the same mistake.

She felt for the first time that something was wrong when her professor accosted her in the corridor.

"Your friend got the best score of all the participants in the exams, Miss Strong, but he has not yet submitted all the documents. He shouldn't delay, if he doesn't do it by Wednesday, someone else will take his place." He explained, and she swallowed hard and nodded.

"I'll pass it on to him." She muttered and as soon as she said goodbye to him, she texted him.

He, however, did not write her back either that day or the next, making her cry again through the night because of him.

Was he punishing her in this way?

Was he showing her that if she did not meet his expectations he would do nothing to change?

That her presence was supposed to be the payment for him going to University?

She thought it was terribly unfair of him and that she didn't want to know him only to send him another message in despair.

He, however, continued not to reply and she had lost hope that anything would change.

"You haven't been eating lately. What's going on?" Asked Daemon, driving with her to the supermarket to buy things for dinner.

He took her to various places under his watchful eye, trying to find her activities to keep her from sitting in her room and torturing herself with thoughts.

She swallowed hard and looked away, not wanting to talk about it or lie to his face. She heard her step-father sigh heavily at her lack of response, impatient, and he was already about to say something when suddenly his phone rang in the car.

He answered by clicking the hands-free mode, connecting directly to the car's control panel.

"Boss, there's a small problem at the Moon & Stars club. There has been an incident, someone has tried to rob the safe. We suspect it was Hightower's people, but they managed to run away. They didn't take anything."

She looked at her father, who sighed heavily, running his hand over his face.

"Do I have to do everything myself? I'll be right there." He hissed impatiently and turned off the road, heading in a completely different direction.

He didn't usually take her with him to do his business, but now apparently the matter was serious and they were too far from home to turn back.

As they went inside, Daemon pointed his finger at one of the guest lodges to her.

"Wait here for me and stay where you are. Ten minutes and I'm back. Is that clear? You can order yourself something to drink, just have them pour it by your side in a glass." He said and she nodded, having no intention of doing anything but sitting.

Old rock classics were playing all around her, posters of bands and various guitars everywhere, red and blue lights blinking all around her, tormenting her already tired eyes.

She hadn't slept well the past few nights.

"Rhaenys?" She heard someone's voice behind her and turned, surprised to see a woman in front of her, the same one she had met when Daemon had shown her what her uncle had done to Robert.

She looked at her with big eyes, confused and terrified, because no one but him had ever called her by that name.

"Alys. We've already met." She introduced herself, extending her hand to her, holding her drink in the other, and she shook it.

The woman grinned in a way she didn't like and sat down across from her, making her feel uncomfortable. She looked around, trying to spot Daemon in the crowd, tense.

"Don't be scared. I'm a friend of Aemond's and an old acquaintance of your step-father's." Alys said calmly, taking a sip of whisky from her glass.

She looked at her with her heart beating fast, playing with her fingers in a gesture of concern.

"– but –" She muttered, unsure if she wanted to know how she knew the name that only her uncle called her by.

How close friends they were.

It seemed to her that Alys saw the question written all over her face, because she grinned even wider.

"He revealed to me the name he calls you by accident. Let's just say it slipped out to him in a moment of elation because he forgot it wasn't you lying beneath him." She said softly, without a grimace of anger or frustration, as if she found it amusing.

She swallowed hard, feeling an unpleasant sting in her heart at the thought that she was having sex with him, that he was comfortable with another woman.

On the other hand, her words sounded in her ears making her grow hot.

It slipped out of him in a moment of elation because he forgot that it wasn't you lying beneath him.

Alys sighed, spreading herself out comfortably on the couch, seeing that her words had completely shocked her and she didn't know how to act.

"Don't worry. We were never in a romantic relationship. I find the fact that he is so deeply in love with someone quite charming. For a long time I didn't know who the mysterious Rhaenys was, as there was no girl in our society with that name. It wasn't until recently that I found out for what reason Aemond kept his feelings to himself. An uncle should care for his niece, but not that much, right?" She sneered, and she swallowed hard with a loud snort of air.

Was she trying to scare her?

To blackmail her?

"Why are you telling me this?" She asked horrified, making the woman raise her eyebrows high.

"I want to help. I suspect your father didn't tell you that Aemond had recently overdosed on sleep drugs." She said, and she froze, feeling herself go deaf for a moment, and everything around her stopped.

"What?"

"He's in hospital in intensive care. I found out about it from his grandfather's co-workers. Everyone is whispering about it being a suicide attempt, thinking it was because Otto decided to make Aegon his successor. But I think otherwise." She said calmly, tilting her glass, drinking its entire contents to the end in one gulp, and set it down on the table.

"When he came to talk to me last time, he talked about you. He wanted me to help him with the Larys Strong case. Fear not: we've had nothing more in common than business for over a year. Since your name slipped out of his mouth, he was no longer comfortable with this form of intimacy, which is quite understandable. I learned his sweet little secret, but honestly, looking at you, I don't blame him." She said lightly with a simultaneously heartfelt and disturbing smirk.

Their relation was deep, she thought with regret, even if they were not together.

Something in that thought saddened her, the image of their bodies entwined together.

Did he feel the same when he saw Robb?

Are you two together again?

Are you in love with him?

"It hurts you that he slept with me. That he didn't wait for you." She stated calmly, as if she had come to some obvious, ordinary conclusion. She twisted in her seat, feeling panic rising within her, her bright green eyes seeming to pierce her to the core.

"I don't know what you mean." She muttered, looking away, red with embarrassment.

"I know he hurt you. What he did to you. In a way, I admire how you endangered yourself for him having Daemon under your nose. It's tragic that you love him so much, but it's even more tragic that he reciprocates your feelings. It saddens me to see such a young, innocent girl fall down with him because of his greed." She said dryly, making her shake her head, clenching her eyes, feeling hot tears under her eyelids.

"Leave her alone, Alys. Don't mess with her head." Daemon said, grabbing her arm and lifted her upright. The black-haired woman looked at him, sighing heavily, the expression on her face not changing one bit.

"I was just offering her my condolences."

As soon as they got into the car, her step-father began his interrogation.

"What did that witch want from you? I like her, but she's a specific person and I'd rather you didn't talk to her alone." He scoffed, pulling out of the car park. She looked blankly out of the window, feeling horribly tired.

"That Aemond has overdosed and is in hospital."

Daemon rolled his eyes, impatient, and licked his lower lip.

"I didn't want to burden you even more. To make you think it's your fault. Your uncle is trying to make himself a victim."

"He killed Larys Strong for me." She muttered and heard Daemon take a deep breath, frustrated.

"Maybe he did, maybe he didn't."

"He did. Because of that rape pill. Against his grandfather's will."

"How do you know that? I forbade you to contact him. Do you want me to take your phone away from you so you'll finally wise up?"

"I don't want him to die."

Daemon fell silent and stopped at the side of the road, turning on the emergency lights. He tilted his head back, closing his eyes for a moment – they continued like that for a moment in a silence filled with tension, her fingers involuntarily tracing over the scars on her wrists.

Her reminder of what he had done to her.

"We can't help him if he doesn't want it himself. Do you understand?"

"He wants it."

"You're the only one who believes that."

"After they imprisoned me in their house, he stayed in one room with me all the time. He cried constantly, like he was a little baby. He is broken. He begged me for forgiveness."

"If he had really cared about you, he would never have done this to you."

"If your father had bequeathed in his will what was due to you to someone else, would you have left it that way?" She asked, glancing at him. Daemon shook his head, sighing heavily, shaking the dust off his trousers.

"If you cared about peace, you would have made a deal with them. My mother doesn't think justice has been done, but she remains silent for your sake. She will not stand up to you." She said coldly. Daemon looked at her with a gaze from which she froze.

"Careful now."

"Or what? You've always resented me for lying. But can you be told the truth without fear of the consequences? Do you only want to hear the kind of truth that is convenient for you?"

"Your grandfather bequeathed to your mother what he wanted in his will. Nobody forced him to do that. Do you think I'm going to give it back to them so they won't be sad? So that your poor one-eyed uncle doesn't cry? Wake up. Why do you think Viserys passed everything on to Rhaenyra? Hm? Is it because he's in love with me? Because he despised his sons? No. Because he knew that whatever he bequeathed to them, Otto would take it. He showed him that he never really trusted him and he was absolutely right."

They stared at each other in silence, the air around them so thick she felt she had trouble catching her breath. She turned her head away, feeling only fatigue, only regret.

"Take me home."

Daemon snorted and shook his head, taking off with a screech of tyres, furious.

Only money mattered, only influence, only power.

Everything else was just an obstacle to the goal.

When they got home Daemon held out his hand to her, startling her.

"Give me your phone."

She pressed her lips together, feeling her heart begin to pound like mad in rage.

"No."

She saw her step-father smack the inside of her cheek with the tip of his tongue, standing with his hand stretched out in front of him.

"I don't like repeating myself."

"No."

"Should I call your mother? Are you going to tell her that you talk to your uncle and what you do with him in your free time?" He sneered, making her feel a squeeze in her throat. "Come to your senses."

"Tell her what you want. I don't care." She said dryly and moved ahead, running upstairs to her room.

She locked herself in the bathroom and changed the card in her phone, looking in her contacts for Helaena's old number, the one she'd given her when they were still little girls, praying she'd answer.

"Hello?" She heard her soft voice on the other end and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hi. I'm sorry to bother you. I know Aemond is in hospital. He's passed his university exam, but the deadline for submitting his documents is today. They should be in his flat in the envelope he got from the University. Are you able to fill them out and bring them to the Archaeology Department tomorrow?" She asked in a whisper, afraid that someone outside would hear her conversation.

"Oh. Okay. Okay, I'll try." She muttered, and she breathed out heavily, feeling relieved.

"Thank you. How is he?" She asked quickly.

"He's still not awake, but his condition is stable. The worst is behind us. Our mum tried to call him but he didn't answer, so she drove there to see what had happened. Thank goodness she had spare keys to his flat."

The next day she set it as a point of honour to convince her professor and dean, appearing with Helaena, that the situation was exceptional and procedures could be bent in this situation.

"I didn't know my friend was in hospital. It happened suddenly and for this reason he could not bring the documents yesterday, which however his sister has with her today."

"We cannot accept them without his signature." Said the dean, making her feel an unpleasant discomfort in her stomach at the thought that her uncle would wake up only to find that his chance was gone.

"I ask for your understanding in this unique situation. He is unconscious at the moment and fighting for his life. As soon as he is able, he will come to sign the documents in person. The professor told me that he passed the exam with the best result. He's been through a lot and I don't want his work to be in vain." She said, and the man sighed heavily and nodded.

"Very well. But as soon as he is able, he is to appear here immediately and explain to me in person."

She sent him another message that same day, knowing from Helaena that he was finally awake and that nothing was threatening his life anymore.

He, however, did not write her back.

Was it because of her that he had done this to himself?

Was it because she had not met him?

She felt anger and remorse at the same time, but mostly she was relieved that he was still alive.

Lying alone in bed late at night, she thought she would go mad if she didn't find out why he had done it, so in a gesture of despair she decided to call him to find out how he felt.

She shuddered when she heard him pick up, but he was quiet, complete silence on the other end of the receiver.

"How are you feeling?" She asked softly, wondering if she was about to hear a litany from him about how much he had suffered because of her, that he didn't want to live because of her.

Would he try to manipulate her with remorse.

"Exactly as I deserve."

She swallowed hard, completely not expecting such an answer, not knowing what to make of his words.

Exactly as I deserve.

She lowered her gaze, playing with her duvet between her fingers, feeling her heart pounding like mad.

"Did you… really want to do this?" She muttered, dreading his answer, and he laughed, as if something in her question amused him for some reason.

"No. I wanted to see how you felt that day."

She froze, feeling her breath get stuck in her lungs, her eyebrows arching in pain at his words.

"Your suffering is not my desire, Aemond. You hurt me, but I don't want revenge. I just want… to stop feeling this unbearable pain in my heart that I have felt in my chest for eight years." She muttered, simultaneously wanting to see him again and forget him, to run away from him and let herself be locked in his arms once more.

"I regret it so much. I told my grandfather that I didn't want him to involve you, but he said that if we didn't, someone else would want to take advantage of Daemon's weakness for you. And I believed him. I thought that Larys will actually try to do something to you again, but only now do I understand that it was a simple lie that I easily accepted to justify myself. Fuck, I'm so ashamed, baby, I really am." He choked out with difficulty, whooping with tears, making her freeze completely, just listening to him.

"My father took everything from me. I did these fucked-up things to other people for nothing. I mutilated them for nothing. The only thing he left me is the property by the sea, the same one where I lost my eye, as if he had made a mockery of me. I was so lost. I still am."

She swallowed hard, staring dully ahead, feeling as one by one tears ran down her face.

Some part of her understood him, knew how hurt and disappointed he must have been, but another couldn't forgive him for somehow using her to get revenge on Daemon and her mother.

She felt like her head was going to burst.

"What do you want, Aemond? Truly. Be honest." She asked, impatient, and heard him swallow heavily.

"I want to study and see you once in a while. In a public place, so that you feel safe."

She pressed her lips together at his words, feeling the heat in her stomach and chest, for which she rebuked herself in spirit, trying to remain sober in her mind.

"And that's it? What about your family? About your business?"

"My grandfather limited my influence and responsibilities after I shot Larys without his knowledge. He no longer trusts me and doesn't assign me important tasks."

It was only then that she understood why he had actually overdosed.

He had lost his business.

He had lost his grandfather's respect.

He had lost her.

He was alone, exactly as he was then.

His face contorted in pain and despair, his red cheeks flooded with tears, his eyes closed and his hands clenched into fists then, as he stood up to his waist in the sea water, alone and terrified.

"The University Library." She said feeling that she had made up her mind.

"I don't understand."

"We can meet in the University Library."

"Really?" He asked excitedly, as if she had given him a wonderful surprise, and she swallowed hard, feeling a tightness in her throat.

"Only there and for a short time. Once in a while. If I find out you did something to hurt me or my family, you'll never see me again."

She didn't care about their business, their money, their eternal need to prove to themselves who was in charge of this town.

She just wanted her friend back.

The next day she turned up at the agreed place all tense, hiding her little pocket knife in her bra beforehand, afraid that he would trick her again.

That he would betray her again.

So many emotions were rattling through her head that her hands were shaking and although she tried to concentrate on reading her textbook, she couldn't. When she heard the sound of the door opening and raised her head from the book, she drew in a breath, seeing his silhouette emerge from behind the bookcases.

He stood still, as if petrified, his eyes and mouth opened wide.

"Hi." He muttered as if choking.

"Hi." She replied, looking at him watchfully, ready to run away.

She swallowed hard as he simply pulled off his leather jacket and sat down next to her on the big, soft cushions.

Afraid of how much her heart was pounding, how euphoric she felt at the sight of him, she decided to turn her thoughts away from that and get to the point, pulling from her backpack her notebooks that she had brought for him.

"I brought you my notes from first year. Read them, if you can't decipher something, I'll try to guess what I wrote. They'll come in handy for you before semester exams." She said indifferently, handing them to him one by one. He nodded and swallowed hard, taking them from her, clearly not knowing how to act.

"Thank you."

Having no idea what more she could say, she leaned back and sank into reading her textbook again, afraid to look at him, afraid of what she would see in his gaze.

She shuddered and took a breath as he lay down beside her and put his head on her shoulder, exactly as she had done when they had read books together as small children.

She pressed her lips into a thin line, feeling tears squeeze into her eyes at this tender memory.

He heard her uneven breath, his moist, soft lips brushed her neck as his hand touched her waist, locking her in a warm embrace that felt too good, too safe.

No.

"– please –" She muttered, but didn't have time to say anything else because he interrupted her.

"– I have a gift for you –" He said, surprising her completely, taking out a rose-shaped red lollipop from his pocket after a moment. "– I didn't know what kind of flowers you like, so I bought one like this – the sales lady said it has a strawberry flavour –"

She felt touched and at the same time pained at the thought of how sweet and thoughtful this gift was. She took it from him, turning it in her fingers, no longer able to remember the last time anyone had given her something without an occasion to just make her smile.

"I'll eat it later. I don't want to get the books dirty now. Thank you, that's very kind of you." She said softly, putting the lollipop aside, and he nodded, his face pressed against her cheek as his fingers ran slowly over her face.

For some reason she didn't understand when he leaned back, her body followed him, laying next to him on the soft material. She let his arm draw her closer, his hand combing through her hair as her fingers touched his chest.

He nuzzled her face into the hollow of his neck, and she closed her eyes, smelling the pleasant scent of his aftershave and his masculine perfume, making a wonderful warmth spill over her lower abdomen.

"Several of my father's men are dead. They were shot on your grandfather's orders." She whispered, not wanting to forget who he was or what he had done.

She heard him sigh quietly, his fingers trailing over her head and down her back, playing with the curls of her hair.

Why did she feel so surprisingly safe in his arms, why was she so relaxed, so calm, why did her chest fill with some strange, unnatural relief?

"I know."

"Did you have anything to do with it?"

"No. My grandfather restricted my field of action after we called the emergency services when you…" He didn't finish, and she swallowed hard, knowing what he meant.

She decided she had to ask him this question, even though she was so afraid of his answer.

"If your grandfather tells you to kill Daemon or my brother. What will you do then?"

To her surprise, he seemed to have expected her to ask him this, for he answered almost immediately, without hesitation or uncertainty in his voice.

"I will tell him to do it himself. The times when I was his dog are over and he knows it. He has no idea what to do with me. I'm out of his control."

Something in his words, in the confidence with which they left his throat made her feel hot in her heart. She lifted herself up on her arm, wanting to look at his face, knowing that even if his lips lied to her, she would see the truth in the look of his healthy eye.

"What's your plan?"

Her uncle hummed under his breath, his hand from her neck sliding down between her breasts, trailing along the buttons of her dress, making a hot shiver run down her spine.

He was doing this on purpose, she thought.

"I want to start acting on my own." He said cautiously and looked at her with a glint in his eye that she didn't like.

"What do you mean?" She muttered involuntarily.

"If you think there's a way I could escape this world, you're wrong. Even Daemon didn't escaped it, he simply gathered his most trusted people and expanded his influence. I want to do the same, and I will start by taking over Heavenly Beach. Since Larys is dead, chaos has reigned there, and I intend to take advantage of it. Many of my grandfather's people don't like the vision of them having to work for Aegon in the future. They neither respect nor fear him." He sneered, saying the words as if he was proud of himself.

She stared at him in disbelief, not expecting such a response from him, the fact that he would dare to think of cutting himself off from his grandfather, of breaking away from his leash.

His words surprised her so much that she didn't know what to say, what she felt, what she thought about what she had just heard.

She shuddered, snapped out of her reverie when his finger tapped her breast where her pocket knife was tucked under her bra, feeling the cold sweat on her back at the thought of him noticing it.

"– wise girl –" He hummed, using this as an excuse to tease her through the material of her dress, rubbing the spot under where he knew her nipple was.

She swallowed loudly, feeling a wave of pleasurable heat surge through her entire body, the place between her thighs pulsed painfully hard, embarrassingly wet and eager for him not to stop.

She thought she would not give him that satisfaction.

"What do you intend to do with my step-father?" She asked in a trembling voice, and he looked at her with a smirk, shamelessly closing his hand on her breast again and again, no longer even pretending that he meant anything other than to feel her.

"Nothing. I won't attack him first. For you. He has nothing to do with Heavenly Beach." He muttered, spreading himself more comfortably on the cushion, already focusing only on where his hand was and what it was doing to her. She shuddered as another wave of tickling pleasure and tension shook her loins, her fingers involuntarily clenching on his wrist.

"– stop – someone will see –" She mumbled, looking around, terrified that Robb or anyone else who knew her might see them.

"I want it back." He whispered. "I want what we had during that summer."

She swallowed heavily, looking up at him in shock, feeling her heart get stuck in her throat and stop beating for a second.

I want it back.

I want what we had during that summer.

His words, so childish, simple and ill-considered were too painfully honest for her, his gaze hot and thirsty, full of what he was speaking of.

"I…God, after all, you know it won't work. We can't. No one will accept it, no one will understand. We'll be miserable again." She whispered pleadingly, shaking her head, unable to even imagine what it would look like.

To him, however, it clearly didn't matter anymore, and that shocked her the most.

"If you don't want it, I'll understand it. What I desire is fucked up, like my whole person. But I want you to know that what happened between us… then, when my father died. It was real. I've never felt more alive and fulfilled than then, being deep inside you. You were so warm." He said, running his thumb over the soft skin of her cheek, making her turn all red at his words, her cunt all slick from her moisture clenched greedily around nothing.

"Aemond." She mumbled in embarrassment, involuntarily feeling him inside her again, the thrusts of his hips forcing him deep, deep into her delicate flesh.

"I don't care how wrong it is. I don't care about morality. I've done far less moral things to other people. Making love to my niece seems to me the smallest of my sins." He confessed, sinking his hand into her hair, looking at her in a way that made her want to cry.

Making love to my niece seems to me the smallest of my sins.

Making love.

"Someone might say it's disgusting and wrong, but I only care about what you want. I don't give a shit about others. What they will think of me, whether I live by their rules or not. What can they do to me? Mock me? Fear me? They are already do. It's not about me, it's about you. I don't want to ruin your life."

She burst out crying at his words, because although he had hurt her so much, some sick part of her had longed to hear it for eight years. She moaned quietly as his lips began to place quick, helpless kisses on her face, his wide hands enclosing her in his embrace, trying to comfort her.

But she knew there was no comfort for them.

There was no future for them.

"– please – please, I don't want you to cry because of me –"

"This is just too much. I wish I could be a child again. To go back to that sea. To fall asleep next to you in that room. I wish I could feel again the peace I felt then. Your presence next to me. But I can't have it." She mumbled, choking on her own tears, involuntarily seeking relief in his proximity, feeling grief at the thought that he could not be the strange man she was allowed to love.

"You have it. You have me. You always had."

She looked up at him and froze, breathing hard, looking straight into his eyes, one empty and dead, the other filled with the hot affection she so feared.

"Do you like me?" He asked, and she blinked, not understanding what he meant. She nodded, however, wanting him to know that no matter how hard she tried, she was incapable of hating him.

"Very much?" He continued and smiled as she nodded again, breathing loudly through her mouth, trying to calm the convulsions of her body.

"Will you be my girlfriend?"

What?

The two of them, then, by the sea, walking side by side, the white shells in her hand, his soft, moist lips that evening on hers, his warm embrace as she lay snuggled into his body at night, in his room, in his bed.

"This time I'm aware of what I'm asking for. What I want. And although I should, I'm not ashamed of it. I have wasted eight years that I could have spent with you, no matter how much we would both have suffered during that time. I want to suffer with you by my side now." He whispered, tucking an unruly strand of her hair behind her ear in a gesture so tender that her voice stuck in her throat.

"I wish I could trust you, but I don't know if I can." She muttered with difficulty.

His eyebrows arched in pain at her words.

"I know. I'll wait as long as it takes." He whispered, his broad, warm hand running over her cheek.

I'll wait as long as it takes.

She was terrified by the fact that everything inside her screamed that she wanted him back.

She wanted him to be close.

She wanted him to touch her.

She wanted him to love her.

"You can only embrace me and hold my hand. No kisses on the lips and don't try to take me." She muttered, to her surprise instead of shame feeling relieved.

Against everything and everyone, morals and good manners, everything she valued in life.

They were together.

To her simultaneous annoyance and delight, her uncle took her words very loosely: he didn't kiss her lips and his hands didn't go near the area of her panties, but over the following weeks, when they met in secret in the library, his fingers travelled over every other part of her body.

She deliberately stopped wearing a bra, knowing that the thought that someone might have noticed her nipples under her T-shirt drove him to fury.

As she spread herself comfortably between his thighs with her textbook that they were reading together, satisfaction filled her body as she felt his hard manhood pushing greedily against her buttocks, his hand in some subconscious motion slipping under the material, enclosing itself on her soft, plump breast.

"– you are doing this on purpose –" He breathed out into her ear, rolling his hips back and forth, rubbing his throbbing length against the space between her buttocks, trailing his lips down her long neck, leaving wet, sticky marks on her bare skin. "– you let others look at what is mine – you punish me –"

She sighed, closing her eyes, tilting her head back so that she rested it on his shoulder, showing him grace – she clenched her thighs involuntarily, feeling a wonderful pulsing between them as his lips sank greedily into the hollow of her neck, her hand clamped down on his wrist, encouraging him not to stop.

"– let me look at them – take pity on me –" He exhaled, completely losing interest in reading, kneading the silken, smooth structure of her breast with his fingers as his other hand slid down to her bare thigh, stroking it affectionately.

"– we can't – someone will see us –" She muttered, her breath heavy and deep, her whole body hot and tense from the waves of tickling, overpowering pleasure, his hands, his scent, his closeness driving her mad.

It always ended the same way.

"– there are no cameras here – please – I haven't seen you all week – I've been good, haven't I? – hm? –" He gasped, and she swallowed hard at the thought of what he had done.

He, accompanied by Criston Cole and a handful of trusted men, had carried out attacks on all of the clubs owned by Larys Strong at once, taking over the entirety of his inheritance, depriving his grandfather of half of his trusted associates.

An expression of their displeasure at having nominated Aegon as his successor.

Daemon was shocked by this turn of events, having enemies on two fronts wondering, in fact, whether to respond to her uncle's offer to make a deal.

Aemond could have given Daemon the advantage over Otto that he so needed.

It was probably only the chaos and what was going on around him that made Daemon not ask her why she was going to the library in the middle of the summer, thinking apparently that she was trying to escape from what was going on around her that way.

It was partly true.

She knew that her boyfriend's conciliatory attitude was not because he had suddenly fallen in love with her step-father or brother, but because he wanted her, and she had the power to reward him for being faithful to her and for keeping his promises.

It was a dangerous game and they both knew it.

She sighed and turned in his embrace, sitting down on top of him, pulling her Tshirt over her head without much finesse. Her uncle froze for a moment, staring at the sight before him, his swollen erection beneath her pulsed hard again and again.

She decided to tease him a little and began to rock her hips back and forth, pressing down on what was beneath her, a muffled, low groan came from his throat.

"– fuck –" He mumbled, stroking her naked waist, watching her bare silhouette as if he were staring at something sacred that he held in reverence, for a moment afraid to touch her as he desired.

She rested her hands on his chest as he began to roll his hips, and after a moment he leaned in, sinking his face between her soft breasts.

"– ah –" She sighed, tilting her head back in pleasure, feeling her swollen pussy throb around nothing as his slick tongue ran over her sternum.

Her fingers combed through his short hair as his face moved slightly to the side, blindly searching for her nipple, around which his puffy lips clamped down after a moment, beginning to suck.

"– Aemond –" She mumbled, snuggling his head closer to her chest, involuntarily wanting to feel him harder, closer, deeper, the sweat of exertion and emotion trickling down her bare spine.

His face pressed against her breasts, his lips and tongue sucking and licking her nipples were the furthest form of their intimacy, something lewd and wonderful at the same time, a perpetual torment with no possibility of fulfilment.

"– fuck, let me – please – just this once –" He exhaled wearily, switching from one breast to the other, squeezing it between his fingers, directing her hard, sensitive nipple to his lips, which he clamped around it.

Shivers and waves of delightful tension shook her whole body making her mind all foggy, the space between her thighs all throbbing and moist, ready to welcome him deep inside her.

She rose suddenly from her knees, grabbing the material of her T-shirt, putting it over her head as if nothing had happened, feeling a drop of her own wetness run down her thighs.

"– baby –" He muttered, touching her bare leg, trying to stop her, desperate and thirsty.

"– next week Professor Addams is organising a private excavations two hours away from our town – it's a site in one of the medieval fortresses of our region, very important and he needs volunteers – I've offered to let you come and to count it as your student practices, so that you would have to make up less of them during the academic year – professor will rent rooms for all of us in a hotel nearby – if you come and do your best, I'll let you sleep with me –" She said lightly, looking at him over her shoulder, knowing how ambiguous her words sounded and that was exactly what she meant.

She saw him swallow hard, looking at her with wide eyes, his erection twiched hard in his trousers.

"– do you mean it? –" He mumbled in a trembling voice, as if the very thought made him faint.

"– yes, but it's two weeks – you'd then either have to give up your job, or drive to do your errands at night and come back in the morning –" She explained, taking her backpack in her hand, getting up from the ground.

He stood up with her, grabbing her aggressively around the waist, her body slamming against his.

"– promise me –" He whispered in a trembling voice into her ear, making her leaking pussy clench hard around nothing.

He groaned when, instead of words, her lips found his in a loud, deep kiss that took his breath away. His fingers clenched on her hair, not allowing her to move away, her tongue thrust deep between his teeth with his loud sigh of delight, colliding with his, which she licked invitingly.

She pushed him away and stepped back, trying to calm herself, in his healthy eye a heat and madness she had never seen before in her life.

He was on the verge of fucking her right here and now, ripping off her shorts and panties and slamming into her on the cold library floor.

She wouldn't stand up to him, and her moist cunt would gladly accept him deep inside her.

But he didn't know that.

"– I'll write you all the details later – take it seriously –" She mumbled, having increasing trouble pretending indifference and that she felt nothing for him.

He nodded his head like a small child and she gave him one comforting smile.

"– I love you –" He muttered in a trembling voice, and she felt a twinge in her stomach at his words, her heart filling with heat.

"– I love you too –" She finally confessed with shame, feeling her voice break. He pressed his lips together as if he wanted to cry, his eyebrows arched in pain.

"– I need you – please –"

"– be there –" She mumbled pleadingly and turned away, moving towards the exit, afraid that if she stayed with him a moment longer, she would finally give in to him.

Daemon was not happy with the idea of her leaving for so long.

"– the situation is still tense – someone of my people would have to be there with you –" He said.

"It's an archaeological excavations. I need a change of environment. I've been answering your every call for the last few months. I'm tired. I want to get away from what's going on and earn some money. Drive me there yourself if you're afraid I'm lying. You can call my professor, he will confirm that I have expressed my willingness to go with him again as his assistant. He's a good man. We'll sit in research all day and at night in a hotel."

"In what hotel? I need to know." He said impatiently.

"There is only one small hotel in this village on the main street." She explained, and her father sighed heavily.

"Please. This fortress is an important site. These excavations will count as practices, that way I won't have to do so many of them during the academic year. I haven't even swum in the lake this year, I just want to be alone for a while and do what I really enjoy."

Her stepfather sighed heavily and nodded.

"So be it. But I'll drive you away personally."

The next day she decided to text him to set things up.

Fuck.

She sighed heavily when he didn't write back then or the next day, clearly furious at the thought of having to look at her ex's face, but there was nothing she could do about it.

When Daemon drove her there he personally inspected her hotel room and furrowed his brow when he saw two single beds in it, not one.

"Who are you going to spend the night with?" He asked dryly.

"Certainly with some female friend." She shrugged her shoulders, placing her bags on the floor, feigning indifference.

She found with concern that lying to him was coming more and more easily to her.

He sighed and nodded.

"Report to me every day: text me or your mother in the morning and evening that you are fine. If you don't, I'll come here personally." He said warningly, and she smiled in his direction and nodded, for some reason happy.

She would spend a two weeks with him.

"Okay, Dad."

Daemon liked it when she called him that.

His gaze softened and he left her alone, throwing over his shoulder that she should watch over herself and not do anything stupid.

Too late, she thought with amusement.

She was joyful, and the sight of herself smiling in the mirror seemed unnatural to her.

She was certain that this happy little girl had died a few years ago.

She waited two hours to be sure her step-father is far away and went out into the corridor, looking for her professor. She wanted to inform him that she would be spending the night in a room with her boyfriend, while texting her uncle that Daemon had already left and he could enter the building in peace.

As she had found out from one of the students, their professor was overseeing the setting up of equipment and research tents near the site where they were to carry out the excavation, so that's where she went.

The sight of Robb among several other people she knew well did not fill her with optimism.

Her ex-boyfriend lowered his gaze as she approached their professor, who was just talking to one of the museum workers from the fortress they were about to research. Professor Addams smiled at the sight of her.

"Miss Strong! It is wonderful that you have made it. Will your friend also arrive as planned?" He asked lightly, and Robb looked at them surprised, tense.

"Yes, my boyfriend will be here soon. I also wanted to ask if he could spend the night in my room. We'll both be more comfortable that way." She said without stammering, making her ex-boyfriend turn pale and red all at the same time.

Their professor laughed and nodded.

"It's your room and you're adults after all. Just remember to focus on work, not dating." He said and she smiled involuntarily, casting a defiant glance at the boy she once thought would change her life.

"We will, Professor."

She turned as she heard someone's footsteps and beamed all over as she saw her uncle, clearly terrified and excited, throwing a menacing, displeased look at Robb.

"Speak of the devil. Today we'll just set up the equipment and figure out the details, work will start tomorrow. Everyone is to be here at eight in the morning right after breakfast. Get some shopping done at a nearby supermarket and get a good night's sleep." Their professor said.

She knew that surely the last thing awaiting her that night was sleep.

She was not mistaken – the moment they crossed the threshold of their room her uncle literally threw himself at her.

There was something animal and primal in the way he tore off her clothes, in his gaze black with desire, in his loud, heavy breath as he finally exposed her entire naked body, something he should never see, should never desire, should never have.

And yet.

For a moment he just stared at her, breathing loudly, as if he wanted to remember this moment, her, exposed beneath him – his hand ran slowly over her cheek, along her jawline and neck, sliding down between her breasts to her stomach.

It seemed obvious to her that the time for quiet, slow, tender lovemaking would come later, once the sun had set, once they were both just writhing in each other's embrace, unable to separate.

Now, however, they were hot with desire that burned their skin, and his lips, swollen with lust, after a moment clamped down on her hard, sensitive nipple, sucking on it as greedily as if there was no tomorrow to come.

She moaned loudly, too loudly when his fingers slid down her stomach, deep between her thighs, finding her hot, throbbing, leaking pussy at last, her hands pressing his face to her chest.

"– I hate that son of a bitch – I hate the way he looks at you – as if he's the one who wants to protect you – as if he's the one who knows what you need – bullshit –" He hissed furiously between the licks of his tongue, the tips of his fingers digging into the silky, moist skin of her swollen folds.

She whimpered, spreading her thighs wider, feeling the arousal fill her belly at the thought of how jealous he was of her.

Even when he was with another woman, he dreamt that she was the one lying beneath him.

She could not allow him to doubt the depth of her feelings, to doubt her intention or her fidelity.

"– I don't care about him, uncle – you can kiss me in his presence if that's what you want –" She cooed innocently, looking up at him with her lips parted in deep breaths, his dark gaze clouded and filled with something that sent a shiver through her.

He pulled away from her, as if her words had brought him to an edge from which there was no turning back, his nimble fingers quickly undoing the belt from his trousers and his zipper.

All she could do was, in a natural, simple reflex, spread her thighs even wider in front of him and entwine her legs on his back as he leaned down, sliding the material of his boxers lower, releasing his throbbing, fat erection.

Holding the base of his cock in his hand he guided the thick, pink head of it, leaking from his precum, onto her heat, teasing it, soaking his manhood in her wetness to use it as a lube.

"– may I? –" He asked in a trembling voice, leaning on his elbow right next to her head, and she nodded quickly, not knowing what else she could say.

"– ah –" She gasped along with him, running her fingers through the fabric of his t-shirt on his back as he sank into her with one, slow, sure thrust.

He slid into her with astonishing ease, and her slickness made him start to move inside her immediately, as if the warmth of her clenching walls had awakened some primal instinct in him, ordering him to just take what he wanted.

Nothing more than whimpers and grunts escaped their lips as their hips began to slam against each other with loud clicks of her wetness, his erection so fat and swollen that she barely fit it inside her, his forehead pressed against her.

His scent, his neck into which she snuggled her face as he thrust into her again and again with lewd slaps, his body lying on top of her, all of it was so familiar, so longed for.

"– Aemond –" She breathed out, tilting her head back, enclosing him in the helpless embrace of her body, feeling him with her whole self at last, connecting with him the way she had always wanted to, the bed beneath them creaking loudly.

"– fuck – fuck, baby – I missed you –" He mumbled with difficulty, quickening his pace, with each push rubbing the tip of his erection against the spot inside her from where she could see the stars.

"– I missed you too –" She confessed in shame, listening to the perverted sound of him opening her wide on his cock with wet clicks of her moisture.

He surprised her when he suddenly took her legs in his hands, forcing her to take a new position, putting her knees on his shoulders.

She moaned in shock as he began to move inside her anew with a loud slaps of their hips, feeling a flash of pleasure flow through her body again and again.

Her insides began to squeeze his manhood in delight, pulling high pitched, boyish moans of pleasure from his throat, his lips parted wide, his brow arched as if he was in pain.

"– you're so beautiful – I love you – I love you, I love you, I love you –" He exhaled, no longer sliding out of her, all sticky from her moisture, invading her insides with violent, sharp, quick stabs from which she threw her head back.

"– Aemond, God, yes, yes, yes, here, fuck me here, ah –" She mewled, writhing beneath him in ecstasy, feeling the tension in her lower abdomen and her throbbing pussy about to reach its peak.

He leaned over her, pressing her body against the bed with her own thighs in a position where her calves were at the level of her head.

She clenched her fingers against his back, moaning helplessly as she felt the pressure on her clit from which tears pooled under her eyelids, each successive thrust of his hips sending her body into a state of ecstasy which forced him to close her mouth with his.

"– shhh – shhh, baby, not so loud – mmm – I know – your uncle is close too –" He breathed out into her throat between loud, sticky kisses full of their slick tongues, hearing her squeal of pleasure.

Tears of relief ran down her cheeks red from exertion as her body was shaken by such a powerful orgasm that she just burst out crying.

She heard his loud moans and panting, felt how aggressively his cock pulsed inside her, filling her with his release, how their bodies convulsed as a wave of her moisture flowed out of her, so much that they both drew in air loudly, his face pressed against her hot cheek.

"– 'm sorry –" She muttered embarrassed, not fully understanding what had happened, the wet, large stain under her buttocks made her uncomfortable.

"– it's okay – it's okay, baby – it's okay –" He whispered tenderly, placing loud, sticky kisses on her face.

"– uh – what have you done to me? – we'll have to change the sheets now –" She sighed, combing her fingers through his short hair in an attempt to calm herself, the last waves of pleasant warmth and tickling flowed through her body, putting her in a state of perfect bliss.

She dropped her legs lower, returning to her original position, allowing him to lie between her thighs and she squirmed when he suddenly lifted her by the buttocks and stood up with her.

"– don't worry – we'll just sleep on the other bed – see? –" He hummed, heading with her towards the single bed on the other side, laying down on his back with a sigh of exertion.

She spread herself comfortably on top of him, placing her palm on his shoulder, letting his hands wander over her bare body.

"– can I stay inside you? – you're so warm –" He mumbled like a little boy, and she nodded, dreaming of nothing else.

"– yes –" She whispered, lying with her eyes closed, concentrating on the smell of his perfume and his sweat, his soft manhood still pulsing deep inside her.

She heard him let out a loud breath, something like delight and relief in his words.

"– this is the most beautiful day of my life –"

______

Author notes: You can thank my husband for the last scene, lol. He did things to me.

[meltinghun]

A real gentleman ; Joseph Descamps.

summary: Joseph and Reader never got really along until something changed.

warnings: genderneutral!reader, enemies-to-lovers, idiots in love!!, Y/N mentions lol, just kiss already.

author's note: Hi! I wrote this bc I fell in love with Mixte 1963, and when I looked up for ffs, there were NONE, so I said, 'I'll take one for the team' and came up with this. Please keep in mind that I'm not a writer and english is not my first language, I'll appreciate it if you can point at any errors. <3

The chilly breeze hitted their faces, making them close their eyes momentarealy due to its force, breathing in the smell of wet soil mixed with the freshly made bread from the bakery a few houses down the road.

The day looked very promising; today they woke up a little bit earlier than usual, using the extra time to finish in advance some english homework assigned for the next week and even strarting a big upcomig proyect due to the end of the month, hearing the weatherman in the radio as a background noise, announcing that it was going to be an unusually warm day of autumn.

Everything seemed perfect, the subtle orange hue of the skyes illuminating their face as they walked and the soft rumbling of cars passing by the principal street made them feel like a character of one of those romantic movies they dearly love watching, a thought that felt reinforced when every leave they stepped on made a perfect crunch sound. A soft greeting left their lips when they walked past one of their neighbours who was heading out to work like many other people did at those hours.

It truly felt like a peaceful morning.

'You seem lost in thought. Are you daydreaming about me already?'

Until it wasn't.

They dedicated a slight scowl towards the person who dared to interrupt their peace and inhaled a big breath of air before answering.

'Not even in your greatest dreams, Descamps.' They made a condescending gesture with their hand. 'Now leave me alone, yeah? I was perfectly fine until you came with your annoying presence.'

A booming laugh abandoned his throat. 'Don't act so disinterested. I know you couldn't live without my annoying presence even if you wanted.'

Joseph Descamps. He was a classmate of theirs that took an interesting liking towards their persona, or how they liked to say, a liking towards making their life miserable.

Since the start of the year he took every possibility to annoy them out of their mind, it started with some snark remarks insulting their way of doing certain things and it slowly progressed to petty acts, such as slighty tugging their hair when passing each other, hide their belongings when they aren't looking and even blocking their path by standing in the entryways, smiling down at them while demanding a 'password' that changed every day. Just petty acts meant to be a pain in the head.

He was everything they couldn't stand: a bully with some serious narcissist tendencies who, on top of it all, loved to get a rise out of people by pushing their boundaries and provoking them in any possible way.

But even with that horrendous description, Y/N couldn't avoid that rare feeling at the bottom of their stomach whenever he was close. At first they thought that it was a reflect of how disgusted they truly felt by his persona and the gross acts he usually did, a few weeks later, that feeling was accompannied with their heartbeat increasing when they noticed that he was invading their personal space, but chalked it up as just being nervous of his tall frame hovering them like some sort of prey, that made total sense on their head. However, some days later, he did something that made them realise what they truly felt for the boy with the patch.

It started to rain towards the end of the day, exactly 15 minutes into their english class and the frustration was clearly palpable, it was so unexpected that nobody could've predicted it; what it seemed to be a passing grey cloud turned out to be a massive downpour, Y/N started to complain with their friends about how it was a shame that they chosed to use the new sweater their grandmother knitted for them and how sad it was that now it would get ruined under the relentless rain. When the class was over, they noticed how Joseph went outside the building running and disappeared behind the school gates. They thought it was really weird, but they knew better than to expect something coherent from him. Minutes passed and it seemed like the temporal was getting worse so a few people decided to just suck it up and walk under the cold rain, sighing for themselves and rapidly lamenting once more the lost of the sweater, they prepared to follow the steps of the brave mass of students when a breathless voice interrupted their movements.

'L/N, wait!' A disheveled and completely soaked Joseph made himself seen, his shout drawing attention to the both of them.

'What do you want now, Descamps? I'm already late to home, I don't need you keeping me here any longer than necessary.' They stated with a confused frown, curious as to why was he there but trying to mask it behind indifference.

A smirk made its presence on his sharp features. 'I know, but I couldn't just let you go like that under the rain, that wouldn't be so gentlemanly of me, don't you think?' From behind his back, he pulled a blue umbrella and extended it to a dumbfounded Y/N.

Was that really happening right now? Did the most annoying person they ever met just ran under the rain to bring them an umbrella? And not only that, but he somehow managed to get one with their favorite color, too. Did he just called it to be a mere gentlemanly act?

It might as well start raining cats and dogs.

They opened and closed their mouth, being left without anything to say for the first time, a half-hearthed chuckle interrumping their messy train of thought.

'I heard what you said about your sweater and how sad you would be if it got ruined.' They swore that their heart would get out of their chest for how hard it was beating. 'And I didn't want you to get heartbroken for it, so I thought that you could use one of these.'

He closed the distance that separated them by taking a few steps, reaching out for their free hand and making them hold the umbrella, the contact between their fingertips sparkling a something deep inside each other.

'I know we are supposed to not like each other, but let me be nice to you for once, please.' His eye shining with an intensity they couldn't explain. 'Don't worry, we can keep hating us tomorrow.' When he saw that they wouldn't object, he turned around and began walking outside, getting under the rain once more.

Feeling the heat creeping on their face and having found their voice, they asked out loud.

'How did you know?' His head turned around enough for them to see his face. 'How did you know that it's my favorite color?'

They knew that it could've perfectly been a mere coincidence, something insignificant that shouldn't be overly analized, but something told them that it wasn't like that. They really hoped it wasn't. And it was confirmed when he flashed them another one of his infamous smirks.

'Sometimes I listen to you more than i should.'

Since that very moment it's been really difficult to fight the involuntary smiles that made a way into their face when he unexpectedly tries to integrate them to a conversation by asking their opinion on a subject, or the feeling of warmth that invaded their chest everytime they made visual contact and let's not forget how everytime they both "accidentaly" brush hands Y/N had the extremely rare need to interlock their hands with him.

But after all, he was still Joseph Descamps, the attractive cocky idiot who is always up on some trouble that he himself seeked out.

'...-ou cold?'

They blinked repeatledly with confusion written all over their face, the taller boy smiling down at them for being able to catch them distracted.

'Huh?'

'I asked if you weren't cold.' He repeated the question slower, a soft look on his eye. 'You are shivering'.

If he didn't pointed it out, they wouldn't noticed that, in fact, they were shivering. The chilly air becoming colder than before making them lowly insult the unstable weather of the so-called "unusually warm day", having only a thin cardigan that didn't do much to help.

'It's nothing. The school's a few blocks ahead, and I can take a little bit of cold.' Grumbled under their breath, only to sneeze some moments later.

The boy snorted while shaking his head before swiftly taking off his coat and placing it on their sholders. 'You are not going to catch a cold, or at least not on my company.'

'You are being awfully nice to me lately.' In a slight moment of braveness, they blurted out the question that was tormenting their head. 'Are you flirting with me, Descamps?'

An incredulous look got settled in his face, and they regretted saying it immediately, wishing to come back on time to stop themselves and save them from the embarrassment. Did they read the signals wrong? Was he only trying to become their friend? Was he only being nice? Was he...?

'Yes! Thank you for finally noticing it, I was starting to think that you were cruelly ignoring my advances.' A beautiful and dashing smile was sent in their direction, the biggest they ever saw him smiling.

And it was because of them.

A shaky sigh left their lips accompanied by a nervous laugh, not realizing they were holding their breath, with equally shaky hands coming up their head to accommodate their hair on a jittery action.

'I... I didn't know, really. I had a slight impression, but I thought that I was imagining things.' They cleared their throat in an attempt to regain their cool and collected personality. 'So, when are you taking me on a date then?'

The slight quiver on their voice was noticed by the still very amused boy, who took mental notes on how cute they looked flustered and to try to do it again in the future when given the opportunity.

'Would you accept if I asked you to skip school with me and have a date right now? I don't think I can wait any longer.' He asked with a playful tone, typical of him.

They let out a snort. 'I would tell you that you are crazy if you think that I would do something as risky as that. But lucky for you, I'm free today, so meet me at the cinema at four o'clock.'

'Then I shall see you there.' Replied between soft laughs, not believing that this was really happening. 'Some recommendations for this poor soul?'

The open gates were a few meters ahead of them, the other students that hanged outside throwing curious and shocked looks on their direction when they noticed the much larger coat that lied on Y/N's shoulders and the flustered smiles on their faces.

'Yes, the most important thing, don't you dare being late. If I get there and I don't see you, you can even forget that we know each other.' He brought both hands up in the air in a sign of redemption. 'I'm serious about this. You'll regret it if you do.'

'I wouldn't even dare thinking about it, I'll let Magnan take my other eye before screwing my opportunity with you.'

Their eyes widened at the hidden seriousness of the statement and the simplicity with which he pronounced it, the sincerity of it all making their heart race like crazy. Slowly nodding their head while trying to gather their thoughts.

'Well, it's settled then, at fo-...'

'Four o'clock sharp, I couldn't forget even if I wanted to.' He made a pause, regaining his usual playfulness. 'Should I bring you flowers? I want to be a real gentleman with you.'

'Okay, now you are showing off that you know how to flatter someone, shut up.' Rolling their eyes with a smile, they started walking toward the gates, leaving him behind. 'And I like camellias, for your information.'

'I only wish to flatter you, nobody else!' He said loudly, making people start to whisper about the supposed swear enemies.

'You don't want to know.' Was the only thing they said, accompanied by a slight shrug of shoulders.

Trying to bite back a bigger smile they waved him off, getting closer to their friend group with each step they took, all of them looking the exchange with incredulous eyes, silently begging for an answer as to what just happened.

They never before wished that the day would end up sooner.

[ki-yomii]

baby, don't go | myg

➥pairing | ex!min yoongi x f!reader, mentioned f!reader x omc ➥word count | 5.1k ➥warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, pet names, praise kink, squirting, hand job, finger fucking, porn w/ plot, angst w/ a happy ending, alcohol, exes to lovers, implied cheating (omc is a fuckboy), implied getting back together (reader & yoongi still low key love each other), idol!yoongi ➥summary | "hii can I request for an exes to lovers trope with yoongi 😭💖 lovee your ficss" you find out your boyfriend is cheating on you. thankfully your ex Yoongi is more than happy to distract you. ➥notes | hope you enjoy this anon 😘💚 omc & ofc are named after characters from one of my favourite k-dramas (personal taste iykyk)

💚 masterlist | inbox | AO3 💚

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.

Standing beside you, your friend Kae-In takes a swig of whatever's in her cup - a sickly sweet concoction of fruity soju and Chilsung, most likely - and coolly surveys the backyard.

Small groups of people dot the manicured lawn, others lounging by the fire as they catch up with one another. It's been far too long since everyone's schedules aligned like this.

Years in fact, and there are several who came in from out of town.

Ordinarily you'd be over the moon, but as it were you can barely drum up enough false excitement for your best friend. Let alone others you haven't seen in forever.

Cocking her hip, Kae-In puckers her mouth. "The alcohol isn't even that good." She sighs, pretty face scrunching in disappointment. "Some party this is turning out to be."

Your hard cider, still more than half-full, hides an awkward, ill-fitting smile.

Having nursed your own drink for the last hour, whatever might've been enjoyable about it is long gone. Any refreshing coolness and bright, punchy taste replaced by amber liquid far past room temperature in your clammy palm.

In fact, the fizzy warmth and tart aftertaste of moldering apples turns your stomach with every half-hearted sip.

"At least there's cute guys here - some of them have really grown up."

Her breath ruffles the fringe of her bangs when she huffs, casting an eye to the glass bottle strangled in your grip.

"Are you sure you don't want something a little stronger?"

You shrug. "Yeah, I'm fine - gotta be the DD just in case, y'know?"

"Girl, you're ALWAYS the DD. C'mon, you gotta live a little sometimes."

The nonchalant scolding stings, even if it's meant almost entirely in jest but it's not Kae-In's fault. She doesn't know. No one does. You couldn't muster up the courage to tell her the truth.

Not yet.

It's still too fresh. The wound too raw to go poking around with clumsy fingers.

"Don't be like that," you say with a faltering smile. "I'm having fun."

LIAR.

In actuality, you're a few frayed threads away from snapping. Stuck clinging to the edge of sanity by the fingernails as you battle back tides of crippling grief and blinding rage.

Have been since the first few messages came rolling in; questions with videos attached. There's a part of you grateful they reached out, while another altogether wishes you hadn't seen.

At least not until morning.

Would one more night spent in ignorant bliss have been too much to ask for?

Now you're riding a corkscrew of emotion, one that roils and chafes as ceaseless images parade past your eyelids with every blink. Each one as crisp and clear as the first time you pressed play.

The swirling lights, the heady thrum of bodies. A darkened corner. Your boyfriend of three years who said he couldn't make it. His hand sneaking beneath the hem of a cheap, glittery skirt. The dip of his head as he tucks into the curve of a neck, mouth open and smiling against bare skin.

You shudder, stomach rebelling. When you swallow, it's like trying to down buckets of sand.

Kae-In, none the wiser, flicks her hair over her shoulder. "Well, that makes one of us. I guess." Shrugging, she turns to you and asks with a furrowed brow, "Are you sure you're okay? You seem... a little off."

Panic grabs you by the throat.

This was supposed to be a night full of fun and laughter. You're not supposed to be suffocating in a crowded backyard. On the brink of tears and trying to act like your life hasn't imploded.

Alone - by your own doing, which is even worse - to deal with the crushing weight of an inevitable breakup. The painful extrication of two lives entwined.

How a relationship three years in the making can be shattered in a minute and forty-five seconds is mind boggling. You had it all, and now...

You thought you were going to marry him.

The whiplash of it all almost makes you laugh but only so you don't break down in great, heaving sobs. A heartbreak you're not sure you'll ever recover from. Not for the loss of him but rather the decimation of your trust.

"I'm okay, promise! No need to worry."

The lie weighs heavy on your tongue. Tastes of ash as the words you really want to say hover in the back of your throat, a breath away. Only they can't make it past your lips, stuck to your teeth like hard candy.

"It's just been one of those days."

Your shoulders shoot towards your ears when she hums in response. Fingernails picking at the corner of the sweating cider label so you don't have to meet Kae-In's piercing gaze. You know she can see right through you, and you hate it.

What started as a fun night of planned mayhem turned into desperate distractions though this party has done very little in terms of brightening your mood.

Instead, watching everyone you know have a good time while you stand on the side lines, a stranger in a sea of people, feels more akin to rubbing salt in an open wound.

Miserable but acting like you’re not; waves of bitter loneliness threatening to pull you under because you don’t want to ruin the night.

“Is this because Chang-ryul couldn’t make it?” Kae-In pats your back sympathetically. “What bullshit excuse did he give you this time? I swear, he always does this. Just wait. I’m gonna hit him next time I see him.”

Oh, you don’t even know, you think. You’ll definitely want to do more than hit him.

Your heart throbs at the sound of his name, and isn’t that funny? Such a simple thing - nothing but syllables and letters strung together - and yet it has the power to unmake you completely.

Your tongue swells as you struggle to swallow. Words burn like bile as you force out a laugh; brittle, scraped up from the depths of your chest

“I’d pay to see that,” you croak. Your knuckles ache from how tightly you’re gripping the bottle. “But - no. C-Chang-ryul has nothing to do with it.”

You hate that you stutter over his name.

And perhaps that’s why you don’t want to tell Kae-In just yet.

She’s always hated him.

Always said he was no good. Just another fuckboy looking for beds to warm and hearts to break. And she’s right.

God, why does she have to be right?

You know she’d never hold it over you, but the thought of admitting it - out loud - makes you want to vomit all over your shoes. You need time to stitch your edges back together. Too raw and ragged.

You only just found out.

Your pride can’t handle any more hits right now.

She thumbs her nose with an inelegant snort. “Whatever you say. I could take him in a fight. That boy ain’t shit.”

Your laugh startles you - the first genuine one of the evening - and you shake your head fondly. A soft smile tugs at your lips.

“Oh, no doubt. But really, I’ve just been in a weird mood.”

The twist of her lips shows she doesn’t believe a word you’re saying, but she’s kind enough not to press. Instead, she spends the next while distracting you with tales of her various escapades of the week.

And it helps for a time, truly.

But then you feel a buzz against your thigh, a ding echoing up from your pocket. Your stomach turns to lead, drops to your feet. Without looking at the screen, you pull the cell out of your pocket with shaky hands and quickly flick the ringer off.

Meanwhile, Kae-In watches silently with sharp eyes, and an even sharper frown though she declines to comment on your behavior.

“Anyway,” she continues once she has your attention, “as I was saying, did you see little Ji-Seok? Dude shot up like a tree! Last time I saw him he was as big as a bean sprout.”

You hum, worlds away.

“You could at least act like you’re paying attention,” she sucks her teeth before a smirk starts to slowly tug at her lips, “How about we talk about something - or someone - I know you’ll be interested in?”

Guilt sparks but slowly gives way to dread. You know that expression. Have gotten into trouble more times than you can count because of it.

Heart tattooing a rhythm against your rib cage, you sputter, “Oh no. No! Do not look at me like that.”

“C’mo-on!” she wheedles. “You’re absolutely right. We should be talking about,” she points at someone across the yard with her cup, “Yoongi instead.”

Currently leaning back against a stone wall making up part of the fence, Yoongi nurses a beer. Sticking out like a sore thumb now that he’s making it big as an idol, no longer as mundane as the rest of them.

Hushed whispers follow his every move, his bleached hair and flashy outfit commanding all sorts of covert attention.

The sharp cut of his shirt flatters his lean frame, the black leather jacket over top emphasizing the width of his shoulders. Dark jeans cling to his legs, as tight as a second skin, and causing your attention to stray where it shouldn’t.

And his eyes - oh, how you ever forgot is beyond you.

Dark, hooded, deep, and hungry; intense as they drag over the planes of your face like the caress of his fingers.

Shit.

You shove Kae-In’s hand down with a loud smack before she makes an even bigger fool out of you in front of another ex.

“What the hell are you doing?” You hiss. “That’s so rude!”

Not to mention embarrassing as fuck.

“Y’know,” she pauses to wiggle her brows and shoot you an impish grin, “I bet Yoongi would be more than happy to remind you of how rude he can be.”

You smother a groan in your hands, heartache temporarily forgotten. “I can’t believe you. Seriously. We’re no longer friends.”

“Bitch, you love me. And anyway, you know what I can’t believe?” She asks. “You!”

She gestures towards him again amid your flailing attempts to stop her. “Look at him. Like goddamn, you had it good.”

You take a sip of cider to give your hands something to do, nearly blanching at the warm liquid. Refusing to respond or look up as the topic of conversation watches like a hawk, gaze heavy.

How can he still make you weak-kneed after all this time?

He wasn’t even touching you and you still feel his presence down to your toes, setting your teeth on edge.

You hear your own heartbeat, your breathing shaky, sparks of awareness dancing along your spine. Heat creeps into the apples of your cheeks.

“Knock it off, I’m serious.”

“No, when are you going to get that Chang-ryul isn’t good for you?”

You swallow roughly, all the moisture leaving your mouth.

“Yoongi was the best boyfriend you ever had and treated you the way you deserve. And you know he’s never been interested in anyone but you. Hell, he’s barely looked away from you since he got here and the break-up was years ago.”

You shift, perspiration breaking out on your brow. “Can we please stop talking about this?”

“When will you give it up?” She blows a raspberry, shaking her head. “I know you regret how it went down between you guys. Now that he’s here - when you finally have a chance to make it right you just - just - ugh!”

Shooting her a weak half-smile and a shrug, you turn your attention to the small glowing fire pit.

Other’s are gathered around it, relishing in the glow of warmth that wars against the balmy summer breeze cutting through the air. Focusing on the dance and flicker of the flames is a needed moment of peace in entropy.

Though you know it isn’t going to last - not with a motormouth for a friend.

“So-o, what are you waiting for?”

“Sorry?”

She nods towards Yoongi subtly.

He’s finally busy with his own conversation, his gummy smile a quick flash of brightness. “When are you going to stick it to Chang-ryul and hop on that dick?”

“Oh my god!”

Kae-In shrugs. “What.”

“Don’t 'what' me. Seriously?”

A bony elbow digs between your ribs. You wheeze.

“C’mon,” she says, “You already know it’s good with him, and you deserve someone who’s there for you 110%. Someone who will treat you right. You know I worry about you.”

A wave of emotions threatens to completely drown you in that moment, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Her tender concern - her care - feels altogether too much and not enough.

As overwhelming as a tsunami; your heart a raw, exposed nerve.

All you’ve ever wanted was to be loved.

To feel like someone’s first and only choice.

You used to think Chang-ryul was someone who could provide that. What a fool you’ve been. Men like him don’t fall in love, they only pretend to.

They sneak inside your heart and take what they want from your bed. To him, you’re nothing but a fun little stop; a footnote, read and forgotten.

Your heart squeezes, shuddering from a pain your palm can’t soothe away.

It’s a terrible idea.

But maybe…

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to lick your wounds with someone you know cares about you. Has always cared about you, and probably always will.

Clearing your throat, you consider his profile from beneath your lashes.

Yoongi's always made you feel wanted. Looked after you as though you were something rare and precious.

It’s been a long time since you’ve felt that.

Somehow, some way, he senses you looking because he pauses mid-sentence.

Turns to meet you head-on, tracing your face with what can only be called greed. Stopping short when they catch on the lip trapped between your teeth.

Something akin to hunger cuts across his face.

His brows dip low, a palpable heat flooding the inky depths of his eyes. Shadows deepen the lines of his face, the shifting firelight highlighting the flex of a jawline for days, burning halo gold in his hair.

It’s a look you’re intimately familiar with.

Usually preceding a hand-shaking, mind-numbing fuck session where his cock gets as deep as it can, rutting hard and fast, bringing you over the edge again and again until you’re left a wrecked mess. 

Your heart jumps, gallops headlong into a rapid beat.

You feel the rush of blood in your chest, every breath stuttered, stomach lurching. Shaking. Jittery. Tongue tied in a thousand knots and you haven’t even said a word.

It was much easier to pretend you weren’t so magnetically drawn to Yoongi when you weren’t riding the single’s train. When he was away in Seoul chasing after his dreams.

Now that he’s got downtime and your relationship has hit a brick wall? His mere presence sears you to the bone. Drags you in like a black hole.

And that?

So not good.

Swallowing roughly, you tear your attention away. You’d forgotten how intense and blindly bright he can be.

There’s a throb developing in your temple, sharp little darts of pain lancing through your skull. An impending headache if you don’t get some air that doesn’t taste like wood-smoke and cheap alcohol.

“I think I’m gonna head in for a bit. Need to get away.”

You shake your head and toss your bottle into the bin on the way inside, Kae-In shouting her acknowledgement with a thumbs up. Makes you promise to contact her in case of any change in plans.

Nearly everyone’s outside so it should be less crowded, more quiet. Most importantly, away from Yoongi and that penetrating stare which makes you more flustered than you care to admit.

Alas, the kitchen isn’t empty not for long.

You’re lounging against the counter, elbows bent, head rolled back and stinging eyes closed when the back door creaks open. Biting off a groan, you swivel your head to the side.

When you see it’s Yoongi who follows you in, you almost slip and brain yourself on the tile. Mouth dry, palms sweaty, heart beating out of control; scrambling into a more flattering posture while patting down your hair.

He chuckles, his nose scrunched and smile coy.

Seeing him happy always makes you tender, weak.

It seems that hasn’t changed a bit.

No amount of pictures or videos do it justice. Granted, Yoongi looks good any time, any day. But seeing his whole face light up like that in person? Utterly priceless.

It’s a struggle to breathe properly around the lump forming in your throat.

Of course, it has to be him.

Wiping your palms off on your thighs, you greet him with an awkward wave, “Uhhh, hey - hey there, Yoongi.”

Oh my god. Abort mission, I repeat, abort mission.

“Y’know what,” you say, “I was just about to head back outside…”

As you pass by, he catches your arm.

Long fingers curl around your wrist, callouses dragging across your pulse. Your gut clenches, an unexpected bloom of warmth shooting through your core at the sight of his broad palm holding you captive.

His grip is firm but loose enough that you could pull away.

All it serves to do is remind you of nights spent beneath his body, the slide of sweat-slick skin, the taste of him heavy on your tongue, pussy filled to the brim with cock. His rough voice music to your ears, prideful as he gloats about how well you’re taking him.

"Leaving so soon?” He asks silkily.

A hard tug sends you slamming into the wall of his chest.

Air rushes from your lungs, your hands trapped against his collarbones. Firm muscles contract beneath your palms, his body shoving into your touch.

Twisting your fingers in the soft cotton of his shirt, you look at him from beneath your lashes. Your voice whisper soft when you say, “Yoongi…”

His dark eyes, the colour of a rich espresso, track the path of your tongue as you wet your lips. Fingers drag over the soft line of your neck, tracing your fluttering pulse.

Touch feather light as it stops by the corner of your mouth, pressing down on the swell of your lip.

“I haven’t said hello yet.”

Eyes wide, all you do is watch and wait with baited breath. Stunned into silence at his proximity. It’s been so long since you’ve been this close, the smell of his expensive cologne nostalgic.

Your body recognizes his, responding all the same. The connection between you electric, overwhelmingly so.

His head bows, bleached strands brushing your forehead. The tip of his nose rubs yours. You get lost in counting his eyelashes, tracing the bridge of his nose to the carved slope of his cheeks.

Surrounded by him, the urge to resist what’s happening is nearly non-existent. Though you wish it wasn’t so easy to be caught by him.

“One of the guys said something interesting,” he says, his breath ghosting across your face; mint and beer. “It's about you actually.”

He flashes the smile that sends your heart soaring, your stomach flipping.

The slightest peek of a metal chain resting in the crook of his neck, surrounded by a very tempting patch of skin you want to taste, has you a little dumbfounded, absentminded.

“Oh?”

You really hope you don’t sound as frazzled as you feel but the haughty superiority of his slow appraisal of your body, the cocksure smirk on his lips states otherwise.

You really wish you could knock him down a peg but confidence looks amazing on him.

Always has.

“They said you have a boyfriend now. Is that true?”

You manage the slightest shake of your head in the negative - no, not anymore - your heart thundering in your ears.

Your breath catches in anticipation just before Yoongi closes the remaining inches between you with a hum of approval.

His head tilts to the side as he slots your mouths together in a kiss that’s got your toes curling. A filthy wet slide of lips, his the slightest bit chapped, send you under, liquid warmth filling your belly.

You inhale sharply, a moan vibrating against his lips.

Melting into the cage of his arms as his hands clamp down on your hips possessively, tugging you closer. Pressed stem to stern like this there’s no hiding the evidence of his desire.

He’s already half-hard in his jeans, his erection pressing against the zipper.

His eyes are hooded when he pulls away.

“Wanna take this somewhere a little more private, baby?” Yoongi asks, running his nose up the length of your neck and inhaling.

How is this my life, you think, dazed.

His hips grind forward against you so there’s no mistaking what you’re dealing with. “It’ll be just like old times.”

After an awkward fumble and an elbow to the side, you settle on the downstairs bathroom. He follows, quickly pinning you to the door while struggling to toss his leather jacket over the sink.

With a flick of the lock, you’re finally alone without any possible interruption. The door muffles most of the ruckus outside, leaving you hyper aware of every hurried breath, every low-throated murmur.

For a long while it’s nothing but a mess of lips, his body molding to yours. Easy to fall back into the old rhythms of your relationship as though you never left it.

He holds you down.

His fingers in your hair, on your jaw. His tongue gliding over your lip, sucking it into his mouth and letting it slide back out through his teeth.

You meet him kiss for kiss, your hands finding their way into his back pockets, tugging, groping, loving how he bucks up into the cradle of your hips in response.

A sweet ache settles low and deep.

“Yoongi,” you sigh. “Fuck, I forgot how much you like to tease.”

His thumb circles your nipple through your shirt, teasing it into a sensitive, stiff peak that shows through the thin fabric.

The caresses send soft pulses straight to your clit, the intensity getting stronger and stronger the rougher he is.

Before long, you’re aware of how achingly empty you are.

Yoongi nips the corner of your jaw.

“Never forgot how fun teasing you is,” he murmurs into the silk of your skin. “How wet you get for me.”

“Shit, you can’t just say something like that.”

“Can’t I?” His laugh, genuine and vibrant, sounds through his chest and into yours. “You can bitch all you want, but I know you love it.”

A smile, all teeth.

“Isn’t that right, baby?”

You glare at him weakly through half lidded eyes.

Two can play that game.

“Fuck!” Yoongi bites out, those impossibly dark eyes sliding shut when you reach down to palm him through his jeans.

His breath whooshes from him in a loud exhale, his jaw working back and forth. “That’s cheating.”

You smirk, feeling him throb in your hand.

”What were you saying, Yoongs?” Humming, you rub your chest against his, using a fingertip to trace the outline of his shaft. “I didn’t quite catch that.”

Spearing you with a weighted look, Yoongi shoves you back into the door harder than before, the wood creaking under the pressure. Fist resting on the frame next to your head, his body cages you in.

Every shuddered inhale has the planes of his firm chest pressing into yours with the expansion of his lungs. His hips buck up into the softness of your palm with a grunt.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, pretty girl,” he cautions.

Competitiveness is a gift and a curse.

Not one to be outdone, you brush away any lingering reservations - which being honest, there weren’t many left. His relieved groan when you tug out his cock reverberates through you.

Shit, that’s so unfair.

Yoongi already sounds wrecked yet you’ve barely touched him. How the fuck are you going to get through this without completely combusting when he actually cums?

Thinking that maybe focusing on what you’re doing will help, you look down.

Big mistake.

Dark designer jeans circle his thighs, low enough for his cock to spring free.

Flushed, curved towards his belly, the head swollen and sticky with pre-cum. The shaft a decent handful that pulses when your palm skims the side.

Feminine appreciation at the sight has velvet heat pooling between your thighs, pussy clenching at the thought of him inside you.

Sex with him was always stupidly good.

All those veiled lyrics about his skill in the bedroom far too accurate for comfort.

Since you broke up, you haven’t been with anyone that comes close to his ability in getting you off.

He’s ruined you.

His face burrows into the crook of your neck with a low groan. His breath puffs across your skin, shivers racing down your spine.

Low voice full of grit, he says, “Shit, baby, that feels…”

Hot palms anchor themselves to your hips.

“Wait a sec,” he says, body twitching with aborted thrusts, strong fingers kneading. “Wanna do you too.”

Heart jumping, you let go of him long enough to yank your shirt over your head and kick off your pants before returning your hand to his cock.

In the meantime, he rucks his shirt up under his armpits. You can’t help but make a noise in the back of your throat as the length of his torso is exposed.

All that soft, smooth skin stretching over his stomach as he flexes. You have to fight down the urge to run your tongue along the outline of his hip.

Mouth slack, Yoongi pushes up the cups of your bra. Watches laser-focused on the bounce of your tits as they drop free, subtly swaying with every jerk of your wrist.

His hips fuck up into the circle of your hand while one of his own inches down to brush the crease of your thigh. Your hips tilt towards his touch, desperate for friction.

“Oh god.” He moans, calloused fingers dipping between your folds. “You’re so wet for me.”

You wiggle, whining against his lips as you meet in a messy kiss. His touch is light, gentle, barely there as he traces the length of your slit.

You’re trembling, skin too tight, body feverish. “Stop teasing, I want you inside me.”

Those seem to be the magic words because Yoongi gives a rumble of approval, using his thumb to spread slick over your swollen clit in tight circles.

Heat coils in your belly, electricity racing down your spine. Your thighs splay as wide as they can, making room for his hand.

His knuckles brush your skin.

Dipping down to your entrance, Yoongi works on spreading you open with shallow thrusts until you take three fingers comfortably.

Your needy sighs and soft moans bounce off the walls.

His low murmurs right in your ear as the pads stroke your walls, his wrist flexing. He’s hitting all the right spots, still remembering how to get you off years after the fact.

You’re quickly turning weak-kneed and wet eyed.

“Fuck, Yoongs, right there,” you keen, baring down on the digits nudging your g-spot, your grip tightening around his shaft.

You grind your palm over the swollen tip, gathering beads of pre-cum.

He hisses, thrusts off beat.

Fingers nudge up suddenly, pressing deep and holding in retaliation. White lightening crackles behind your eyelids, thighs twitching, mouth dropping open.

“Yeah, just like that, pretty girl.”

Your world narrows down to every filthy slide of his cock in your hand, every gush of slick as he stuffs fingers into you over and over again until you’re a writhing mess against the door.

Your nerve endings are alive with pleasure, the stimulation too much and not enough.

“Please, don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, doubling his efforts, wrist working faster.

Dapples of sweat litter his brow, his eyes staring into yours, glazed over and lusting.

Fuck, he’s handsome like this.

It’s a little embarrassing how bad he’s got you but between the blissed-out expression he’s wearing, the weight of him in your hand, and how full you are, you know this orgasm is going to be quick, messy.

The pace of his hips pick up, his breath hitching in his throat, length twitching and thickening in your grip.

He’s getting close, his touch rougher, more force behind the snapping thrusts of his hips, teeth nipping at the side of your neck.

“Come on, baby,” you say, breathless, twisting your hand on the upstroke. He smothers a grunt in your shoulder. “Give it to me.”

It doesn’t take much more to bring him to the edge.

A particular spread of his fingers has you jolting, a sudden, intense spike of pleasure shooting right to your clit.

In turn, you unintentionally massage his cock, knuckles bumping the underside of the swollen head.

He’s a goner.

Cumming with a low, wounded whine and a shuttered thrust, Yoongi smacks the door with his free hand. Thick spurts of jizz make an absolute mess of his stomach and your knuckles.

Sagging forward like a doll with cut strings, all his dead weight bears down on you.

He pants, small tremors wrack his frame. “Baby,” he murmurs, pressing a wet kiss to your jaw, “I missed you s’much.”

“Missed you too,” you reply, using nice, languid strokes to wring the last of his orgasm out of him. “More than I thought I did.”

In lieu of a response, Yoongi wiggles his fingers inside you, rebuilding the rhythm he lost. He flutters them, curls up against your walls, peppering kisses along the length of your jaw with a hum.

Slick drips down his wrist, the sloppy sound of him finger fucking your cunt blending with a surge of desperate moans.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Yoongi says against your chin. “So fucking hot, wanna see you cum.”

Your back arches, your fingers digging into the width of his shoulders, head smacking the door with a dull thud.

“Can you do that for me?”

Nodding frantically, you fall apart with a broken gasp. Clamping down so hard he can’t move, the cramps softened by the throbbing heat washing over you. Blood rushes in your ears as your pussy gushes around his fingers.

“Good girl,” he praises, tone heated. “You did so well for me.”

By the time your brain comes back online, you’ve forgotten all about Chang-ryul and the constant vibration of your phone where it’s shoved - forgotten - into your pocket.

The only thing that matters is Yoongi with his tender kisses and greedy hands.

[babyangelsky]

I'm gonna let my crazy show for a second

I need to talk about how fucking beautiful Fort looked this episode and why, because it's not like I just woke up today and noticed how stupidly attractive he is for the first time ever, I already knew that.

This production is making choices that I really, really fucking appreciate. The most immediately noticeable of which is that they didn't whitewash him at ALL which just makes me so indescribably happy. It's all beautiful golden skin all the time and it's fucking amazing.

But it's not just that they didn't whitewash him, look at his cheek. You can see his skin texture. And it's not just a one-off because he and Peat were gonna play in the ocean later in the scene and the makeup people didn't wanna apply makeup just so it could get washed off by the saltwater.

You can see it here too when he and Peat are back inside. You could use the excuse of "oh well he's meant to be freshly showered so it makes sense that he doesn't have a lot of makeup on". And to that I say, when has that ever stopped a production from caking makeup on their "freshly showered" characters? Half the time their hair isn't even wet when they're meant to be drying it.

Beyond being vastly appreciated by me, the fact that we can see skin texture is also an excellent character detail, and it's deliberate. It wouldn't make any sense for a person who spends their whole day outside sweating and getting in the ocean to look perfectly airbrushed all the time.

It makes sense for someone who spends their whole day inside working on their computer to look airbrushed though, which Peat does. Especially in the first episode when he arrives on the island.

But you know what?

You can see Peat's skin texture too. They put more makeup on him than they do Fort but they don't cake it on. I cannot even TELL you how happy that makes me.

But this...this is what I really wanna talk about.

Do you see them?

DO YOU SEE THEM? DO YOU SEE THE BEAUTIFUL NORMAL STRETCH MARKS ON THIS MAN'S SHOULDER AND CHEST? DO YOU KNOW HOW AMAZING IT IS THAT WE CAN SEE THEM, THAT THEY DIDN'T EDIT THEM OUT IN POST OR SLAP MAKEUP ON THEM TO HIDE THEM?

*pauses to get myself together*

Listen I am someone who notices every single little mole, freckle, and birthmark that someone has because I think they're beautiful. It's probably concerning how often I notice them and how happy it makes me when I do. And it really makes me angry that these completely normal parts of someone's skin are seen as imperfections or only desirable when they're a certain size or on a certain part of their body. And you know what else always gets labeled as an imperfection? As something that has to be hidden?

Stretch marks.

Every single human being alive has stretch marks because every single human being alive has skin but for some reason, people are made to feel ashamed of them. They're made to feel like stretch marks are these unsightly things that they only have for x, y, or z reason.

Our skin stretches as we grow! Of course we all have stretch marks! All of us! Even the fittest, most shredded person you can think of has stretch marks! They aren't a consequence of your weight or how much muscle you have, they're part of having a body! They're NORMAL.

Do you understand how big a deal it is that we can see Fort's? That we can see every aspect of his skin, including and especially its actual fucking tone? This man--I just--just--

I WANT TO EAT HIM WITH A SPOON

I love that they didn't make him get shredded for this role I love how beefy he looks I love that he looks like a real person I love that you can see his shirt tan I love his fucking stretch marks I love the mole on his chest and the one on the back of his upper arm and the ones on his face I love love love love love!!!

Alexa, play "Piel Morena" by Thalia

[heizours]

GLITCHES

summary. when they find out that you're planning to delete the game under a few reasons

tags. gn! reader, grammatical mistakes may occur

cw. angst if you squint, mentions of explosions, sumeru archon quest spoilers on scara's part, they are lowkey freaking out like it's the end of the world

feat. xiao, scaramouche, heizou, zhongli, kazuha

note. there will be no endings/parts where the reader deletes or doesn't delete the game. to make it easier, the characters somehow already knows another way to prove their existence, and that it is ;)

< back to event m.list

INTRO.

Recently you have been busy for the past few days, as you're trying to accomplish all the works that was given to you before the given deadline.

And that also meant, not being able to spend the rest of your day opening the game. You really tried managing your time, but even that advice can't stop from the overflowing requirements that were continuously being given to you.

Which led to this scenario- apparently your laptop's storage has already reached it's limit, and because of that you can't save the file that was tasked to you

"Are you seriously playing with me now?" You grumbled under your breath, as this minor problem is starting to making you feel frustrated.

Meanwhile, your dear character has been very worried about you. He haven't seen you log in for the past recent weeks, and each passing day was a dreading feeling for him.

Till, all his answers have been granted when that familiar feeling came back again as he heard the sudden sound, which indicates of you logging in. The feeling of your presence, made him feel at ease again. But, of course, he seriously didn't expected it to be thrown away in an instant.

"Perhaps playing one last time, should erase the guilt I'm going to be feeling while deleting this..." You mumbled to yourself, not even the slightest aware that it was clearly heard by him beyond your screen.

Oh, no.

What have you done?

XIAO. 

any outsider would think that there’s nothing going on inside his mind. the truth is, he’s trying to understand if what you had just said was just a joke or not, that he didn’t even noticed that he’s actually panicking the minute he heard it.

Xiao’s breathed hitched in nervousness at the statement that he had just heard from you, not too long ago. His eyes widened in both shock and fear, as he needed to control his breathing so that you won’t be able to noticed the odd actions about him. 

He tried to keep his composure, but he really can’t as his thoughts continue to spiral and emerge from every corner of his brain. 

Did he do something that you didn’t like?

Is it because he isn’t build enough to surpass your expectations?

Or maybe, you just came up with that excuse to indirectly say that you’re tired of him?

No amount of words can be describe by the amount of predictions Xiao is coming up with, as he looked back to reflect on his actions if there is something that bothered you so much, that you refused to play the game for the past few weeks and now, you’re mumbling about deleting it from your gadget’s existence.

His eyes kept darting every where that is surrounding him, except the direction that leads to yours, as he could feel the sweat from nervousness and fear are starting to kick and come out from him.

“But- they were always so happy and glad after logging in. It’s impossible that they are getting tired of it l, they even always use my abilities and skills to complete quests..” He mumbled to himself.

He looked up to look at you again, and there was no denying that Xiao can see frown that was evident on your face even though you tried to hide it in the first place, while you’re taking every last explore in the map, to be worth it and cherished before logging off.

If there’s anything that affects Xiao the most, it is seeing you under the clouds.

Suddenly, the thoughts that were brewing inside him, were pushed out of the way, as this time a determination presence has made it known from within him.

He has made up his mind, and even if it will have to cost something, then so be it.

It might be considered as an irrational decision, but anything is a rational one as long as it involves your happiness and well-being.

“Before I knew it, you are the only keeper of my heart. You gave me such a blossoming feeling I can't be able to explain. Then in return, if this decision will be for your own good, then I’m willing to risk it all for you.”

SCARAMOUCHE.

it might be already expected that he would let out a sudden outburst like he usually does, but it was the complete opposite of it. he was as still as thin ice, since that statement alone from you had triggered and brought back such major flashbacks that he had experienced from his whole life.

For a thousand of years he has lived and wandered all his life, this was the very first time Scaramouche has experience that feeling once again.

He thought that it was all over, and that he had left all those incidents all in the past, but you were the trigger for those unpleasant memories to emerged back from the ashes.

He doesn't understand.

What do you mean by that?

Are you also going to be like her? like them?

Are you also going to abandon him?

Scaramouche felt paralyze by those thoughts, because just as he was about to become a playable character and is waiting for the anticipation to be welcomed in your arms, this is what he gets instead?

“That can’t be possible, in fact- they are always excited whenever I get cutscenes especially if they are unexpected ones- or maybe they didn't like my part for Sumeru's archon quest..?" He murmured to himself, as he covered a part of his mouth, while being deep into his thoughts.

He looked back up to the screen, only to see you very focused on defeating a group of hilichurls that you were commissioned to. But no amount of focus can cover the sadness that is displayed on your face.

Scaramouche often has a routine, that since he is still an NPC and can be able to also roam around whether your online or offline in the game, he had made it a point to himself, to subtly follow you wherever you go, so that he can also be able to secretly help you to defeat the opponents much easier than you expected.

He for once, thanked himself that he never got tired of doing it, even though he sometimes also ‘complains’ how it’s really troublesome to see, that someone as dangerous as himself, is discreetly following you around like a lost child.

He took one last look at you, before turning his back. But as he took force steps away from you, he had halt it. Once again, he turned around to look at you, as a small smile slowly crept up to his face.

Like he suddenly had a big plan on his mind.

After all, if you can be able to enter his, then he too can do the same to yours. Right?

“The hoax, they are just all a gigantic lie in the world I live in. But you, you were different from all of them, in you I found peace and assurance. So, can I be able to find the truth in yours?”

HEIZOU.

as expected from a detective like himself, he’s coming up with every equation, that can fit as the solution to your problem. he gives himself some assurance that it will take not that much of a time before he finds one....or can he be able to?

He is a prodigy, an amazing detective. Surely he can be able to find such major clues, and can put it into the puzzle that's missing it's pieces, to prevent you from erasing the game?

Heizou stands there with his typical detective pose, as he goes deeper in his inner thoughts.

Ah, maybe this can work!

I think I'm gonna have a change of plans, it will not work.

It's alright, I can be able to solve this. Hopefully..

His brain continued to brew and function like it used to be, but every time he comes up with something it was always met by a dead end.

If any passer by will be able to see him, they could literally see the imaginary smoke coming from his brain, and because of his frequent change in expressions.

One moment his eyes would light up, the second he will freeze in pure disappointment before replacing it with a frustrated expression, as he goes back at the starting line.

"This is quite odd...usually I can be able to solve cases with the help of my intuition, but how is it I can't find something for their problem?"

Heizou mumbled disappointedly to himself.

He wasn't even aware, that the "assurance" that he is telling to himself, will be the embodiment for him so start panicking, as the fear that he won't be able to see and feel your presence again, is starting to sink in.

Heizou looked back up at the screen, as the dreaded feeling in him continued to drop. Archons, he hated it so much to see you feeling like this.

If only he can just find a way disappear from this sham world, and can be able to do all the things he is already thinking of to comfort you, then he would gladly do so.

The moment that unintentional statement formed in his mind, a large bright light bulb appeared above his head.

'That's it!'

He snapped his fingers as he mentally exclaimed it.

It was a risky and impossible solution, but how could we say it as an impossible one, when we haven't even tried it yet?

He took a look at you, up at the screen before raising up his hand, as if he was trying to touch your cheek and comfort you, despite the digital barrier that is hindering him from doing so.

"You are the William to my Sherlock, therefore I would like you to wait for me [Name], I promise you I will be the solution to your needs."

ZHONGLI.

he flinched unconsciously from that statement. out of all the possible words he is already predicting to come out from you, this was by far, the most surprising one. can you imagine the look on his face?

Out of all the things that Zhongli has expected, this was the very least he had expected to happen.

It was a very rare yet memorable moment to catch the old archon to be off guard, and there is no denying that he did felt that way when you had spoken to yourself about how you're thinking of ending things already.

He completely understands it due to the experiences he had seen as a witness during his lifetime, as he also has his own beliefs that he can't be able to stop you, especially that it is not his right to know what's happening among your personal affairs.

After all, you're not even the least aware that he is alive and breathing lively inside the device you're using right now.

However, there is still this tingling feeling where he's a little curious of what is bothering you so much, that it this had to happen in this point of your life.

Did something not good happened?

Are you alright?

Will you still remain safe, even if you erase his existence?

Such countless thoughts started coming one after another, as the more he continues to spiral down through it, the more he is getting concerned about your condition.

"One shall not expose their identity especially if it's something unimaginable, but I clearly want to express how concern I am over you [Name].."

Zhongli voiced out to himself, because if he would do it in front of you, then there is a very big possibility that you're going to freak out and will be able to click that delete button without any hesitation, before he can even explain anything about that glitch.

Engrossed in his thoughts, he was snapped out of it after hearing a big explosion that was not that far from where he is standing at the moment.

He has hesitating if he should go after it, especially that there is a chance someone might have gotten in danger because of it, but as he took a look at you are right now, he decided that he would make the travel fast in order to get back to you in a flash.

As he arrived at the area, something worth shocking and unbelievable was existing right in front of his eyes. No, it wasn't an unpleasant sight but it was rather a complicated one.

There stood an unknown portal, and through the portal he can be able to see you, doing what you were doing, but in a more different perspective from what he sees behind the screens.

Zhongli took hesitant steps, towards it. There is an odd presence radiating from it. Knowing that he is usually a rational person, he would usually step back from it just to be safe, but instead he finds himself closing the gap between him and it?

He took again another look through the portal to make sure if what is behind it, is truly not something delusional just to lure him in.

He's not one to make a decision in a fast pace, but just seeing you right behind this portal he's standing in front of, is encouraging him to take the opportunity, as it will be a worthy choice to make and shouldn't be wasted.

His fingers shook, as he got closer and closer to it, and once it had collided with the portal, there was a blinding light that surrounded the area before it disappeared along with the thin air.

"Oh Dear, just how big of a trouble did I got into? Well, there is no time to blame myself. I guess it should be you who I am worrying about, after all how would you react to find me standing right in front of you?"

KAZUHA.

he was able to take that statement calmly on the outside, however the moment he had grasp what you had just said, there is no denying that something shattered inside of him.

It seem that time has stopped around him, the very moment those words had escaped your lips.

But, despite the unpleasant twisting and burning feeling in his chest, it's a surprise that he was able to take it well from the outside.

Do not be fooled though, for if you have the ability to go deep inside his mind, you would be able to see the countless thoughts that are appearing and whispering from within him.

What was the cause of this effect?

Can he be able to reverse it at least?

Are you going somewhere he can't be able to follow or reach?

Such an occurrence like this, brings back Kazuha from the burdens he had to carry because of his past and fallen status.

"I have no right to stop you from doing so, since I firmly believe that you are entitled to have goals and dreams. But, there is a bitter taste in my mouth that I can't be able to erase once you separate the both of us for the purpose of your path."

He mumbled to himself, as he places a right hand near his chest, while reminiscing the unforgettable moments he had with you before you completely take the chance, to erase his data and memories.

He was glad that he isn't part of your team party at the moment, because he can take this chance to just simply look and admire you from the barrier, and take in your breathless form before fading away like the glitches.

That is, until something bright yet risky have been planted on his mind. Not too long ago, he heard some gossips about a mechanism device, being able to grant a wish of whether it can be believable or not.

Now, Kazuha knows that such a device can't possibly be able to do a miracle like that, but even though he is denying it, there is still that glimpse of hope inside him, that he should go for it.

Knowing that he can be able to also roam around like the others that escapes your naked eye, he took one last yearning look at you, as he hastily began his journey, hoping and praying that he can be able to make it to that device before you can even plan to erase all of the game's existence.

"You are the summer to my autumn. Back then I didn't have someone I can be able to protect, but now that you're here, please continue to show me the bright light that leads to yours."

OUTRO.

Peacefully.

You were just sleeping very peacefully.

But, that peace was unintentionally disturbed by his arrival- which you didn't know at all.

You could feel something- no, someone softly caressing your face, as if you're a sensitive vase.

At first, you tried to ignore it thinking that it was just the gust of wind, and it soon stopped.

However, it didn't end there. The lingering and soft touches had already disappeared from your senses, but you could still feel the presence of that someone.

You could feel them staring right into your soul, and if you even show the slightest signs of being awake, who knows what can they do to you.

Despite the warnings you had gathered, your stubbornness still got ahead of you. Because as soon as your eyes fluttered open, the first thing you see is someone breathing above you.

Out of instinct, you push them and hastily grabbed the nearest object that you can use to defend yourself, but as you took another look at the said intruder, you could have sworn that this is a dream.

Unconsciously, you slapped your face with the both of your hands, attempting to jolt your soul to wake up. And the sound emitted a sharp sting, causing the intruder to panic.

"W-wait! I'll explain everything I know, j-just please don't continue to hurt yourself further." He frantically claimed, as he started to feel guilty for making you act like that.

You lowered down the object that you're using to defend yourself, but that doesn't mean that you're guard has also lowered down.

I mean, who would even lower their own guard down when they wake up to find one of the characters from the game that they are playing, are alive and breathing right above them, got into their property without noticing it, knows them and looks exactly like the character itself?

"A-alright, I'll let you. J-just please don't come any closer than that, since this moment actually took a big toll on me, and I'm finding it unbelievable to even believe it." You nervously replied back, as he nodded back eagerly in return.

You think it will only end here? How laughable, truth to be told, this is just the beginning of each other's story.

We may never know what are fate's plan for the both of you, but as they always proclaim-

'Everything happens, for a reason.'

comment to be added in the taglist!

[cher-rei]

can you pls write something where reader says i love you first and trent is surprised but super happy and he says it back

the 'L' word [ T.A.A ]

pairing: trent alexander arnold x fem!reader

summary: in a rush , you leave trent in slight shock with more than just the usual goodbye.

genre(s): established relationship, fluffff !!!

[wc: 1.6k] masterlist

notes: this is such a cute request I'm dyinggg. if there's one thing that I love more than the one-bed trope, then it's casual and unexpected love confessions.

eight letters. eight letters, yet it held so much meaning.

you never liked throwing the saying out so casually, especially to people. it never really managed to roll off your tongue as easily as it did for others- heck you still called it the 'L-word'.

there were a handful of people you have said it to of course, your parents, your siblings, and every other fictional character you felt yourself falling hopelessly for but there was never any other reason to hand it out.

you often had your friends say it to you, so casually as if it meant nothing- and that was the issue. to you, it meant everything. it wasn't just a phrase or an affectionate affirmation. to love someone, you believed that the weight of it had to be felt in your core.

that you'd find yourself at your utmost vulnerability to the point where you were certain that you'd never regret saying it, or even feeling it. and that was all thanks to your grandmother when you were at the ripe age of 7

"don't you go throwing that around now just because barney said you could. love is not just a word. it's a declaration and--"

"mum, she's 7. you cannot be putting this in her head when she barely knows the difference between left and right," your mother complained but you continued to look up at your grandmother with intrigue.

your grandmother scoffed and lazily gestured to the t.v. "tell that to that damn dinosaur."

a declaration. now you're not saying that you didn't deem anyone worthy of your love, you'd show it in many ways— but saying it was something else.

so when you left your boyfriend's house that afternoon to see to an emergency (your friend mia had just been broken up with) and you saw how trent's expression dropped knowing that you weren't able to come to his match, your heart strings were tugged like never before.

you'd been together for a year and a bit but it felt like you've been together since the beginning of time and it could confidently be said that this was the first match of his at home, that you were going to miss. of course, it saddened you, and there was the slight reconsideration but this was one of those times where you knew where you had to be.

you looked at trent with a softened gaze as you stood in the hallway, ready to leave. "I'm sorry baby, you know that I wouldn't miss any of your matches for the world."

there was a slight pout on his lips and you couldn't help but melt at how adorable he looked at that moment. "you're killing me here," you said with a smile and pulled him into a hug— huge mistake seeing as you were already struggling to leave.

a feeling of warmth spread through your chest when he wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his head in the crook of your neck, pressing a kiss there every so often. "no I understand," he muttered, but the slight disappointment was evident in his voice and that hit you like a truck.

it was subtle moments like this that you cherished the most. moments where trent didn't hide his feelings and made it obvious that he didn't want you to leave. when you two first started dating he was rather lacklustre and preferred to keep his thoughts to himself.

it would leave you wondering if he actually liked you, or if you were being too much by expecting him to say "I miss you" or be openly affectionate and make it known that he wanted you around. but after three confusing months, he started to ease in and let his feelings be and show you that he cared.

for instance when he gets home from practice and doesn't say anything and immediately comes to hug you, or join you on the couch just to relax. or when he sits on your bed while you're working just to be near you, because your presence genuinely matters to him.

the moment of silence was interrupted by your phone ringing, which was an immediate sign that you had to hurry.

"I told you that her boyfriend was a piece of shit but mia didnt listen. his name is literally kyle babe," trent stated with a raised eyebrow and reluctantly pulled away from you so that you could finally leave.

you hummed in response and gave him a small smile, "love makes people irrational and stupid."

somehow that brought a smile to trent's face, a look of adoration in his eyes as he leaned in to kiss you. "no wonder I'm such an idiot."

oh, dear god.

he caught your lips before you could even manage to think of a response. your cheeks flushed immediately accompanied by a swarm of butterflies and the thought of nothing else but him. your brain practically short circuited the second you felt his lips meet yours with so much tenderness.

the feeling was incomparable- his hand cupping your cheek while the other pulled you closer to him in hopes that you wouldn't ever leave him, the way your heart skipped a beat when you felt his lips tug up into a smile and especially the way he looked at you when he pulled away.

the moment you took to catch your breath you lost your train of thought just by looking into his his eyes that held so much adoration and affection for you. just one look and you were ready to give him every bit of you for the rest of your life.

you were happily drowning in absolute bliss.

you bit back a smile to stop yourself from looking like an idiot and gave him one last peck on the cheek and opened the front door, turning to look at him one last time. "you're going to be amazing today and make me proud okay?"

oh how much trent loved it when you said things like that. it had him weak in the knees and smiling from ear to ear. "yes ma'am."

you rolled your eyes at the comment with a scoff and finally walked out, absolutely out of your mind and lost in the feeling of utter bliss. "shut up, I love you so much bye."

you immediately shut the door and trent's heart dropped to his stomach.

he didn't get to say it back.

during the full 90 minutes that's the only thing he managed to think about. the fact that he didn't get to say "I love you" back.

not because he didn't— it was blatantly obvious to everyone who knew him that he was head over heels in love with you. everyone but you knew. and he hated that you didn't know, or are least he though so.

just like you, he'd show it in the things he does for you, the gestures, the constant reassurance and reminders that he's proud of you no matter what you do. but he's never said it for the mere reason that he was scared.

he knew how much it meant to you, and the thought of scaring you away was the last thing he wanted. if it weren't for that, then he would've shouted it from the rooftop the minute you said yes to being his girlfriend.

but he didn't have a rooftop right now, and you weren't here. what he did have however was a live broadcast with over 40 000 people at the stadium and confirmation that you were watching the match from mia's house because like you said, you wouldn't miss it for the world.

he was barely listening to what the interviewer was asking him, just nodding along with nothing but the thought of kissing you until you were both out of breath when he got home.

he tapped his fingers at his side and tried to form a response to the question about their win, seeing as his mind was elsewhere but played it safe and gave the interviewer an answer that wasn't too vague. but then again wasn't "I'm proud of everyone, we played extremely well despite the few injuries and I'm glad we were able to take tonight's win." enough??

"and how about your goal? that corner was amazing and had everyone's jaws on the floor."

he completely forgot about that to be honest. the goal slipped his mind entirely, but he did remember what he thought about at that moment, with a smile beaming from the pitch. you.

he gave a tight-lipped smile. "I was just as surprised, to be honest, but I'm glad that it stirred some excitement," he chuckled and continued to listen to the interviewer who managed to bring you up.

"this is the first time in over a year that your girlfriend wasn't able to make it to a home match, that must've made you feel a bit upset?"

"uh," he trailed off trying to find the words. "she had an emergency but I know she's watching from home so that brought me some comfort, so she wasn't gone entirely."

the interviewer smiled at him and he knew what question was next. the one he'd been waiting for all evening. "is there anything you want to say to her then?"

hell yeah there was.

"first of all, I was right about kyle and you should listen to me more, second, that goal was entirely for you. something to brag to your friends about, and last but not least--" trent took a deep breath, unable to stop himself from smiling from ear to ear with a heart full of warmth, "--i love you more."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Drawn Together 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, obsession, intimidation, and other dark elements.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: You get a tattoo on an impulse to break your routine, but you walk away with something else as permanent as the ink.

I saw this and had to

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You are not a rebel. You are clean cut. You live within very precise boundaries. Minimizing every part of yourself to evade notice. Rules are not meant to be broken, despite that old cliche.

That is until that day. It's foolish, you know it. That voice in the back of your head repeats your foreboding. You know you can't go back. There isn't a magic eraser for this one.

Shut up.

You're over it. Over yourself. Over your boring life. You've never done one fun thing for just yourself. It's always been what has to be done. What must be done. You're thirty years old and you don't even know if you understand the concept of 'fun'.

You sit on the leather bench. Nervous and shaky as hell. There's still time to change your mind. You can take your deposit and go, with clean untainted skin.

No! You're not going to chicken out this time. You want one memory that doesn't end in you tucking tail and running.

"Do you like the sketch?" Sam, your assigned artist asks.

You glance over at him as he pulls on a pair of black gloves, his gun laid out and sterilised. You peek at the open sketchbook, the drawing of a simple red poppy outlined in black with a thick spiraled green stem. Nothing too big or extravagant, easy to hide. If your mother or father ever saw that, you would be excommunicated.

"I love it," your voice quavers and you clear your throat, "I'm sorry, I'm just a little anxious."

"That's fine. First time, right?"

"Uh, yeah, I don't even have piercings," you give a brittle chuckle, "I'm not really the adventurous type."

"I'm sure you are in your own way," he grins, a look that calms you. "So, we still set on ankle?"

"Um, yeah, I think that's good."

"As good a starting place as any. Glad I talked you off the ribs. Those are tender."

"Just an idea," you breathe, "I don't know much about these things."

"Not to worry, you're in good hands," he winks, "you can just relax," he rolls his stool to the foot of the bench, "and pop your leg up here."

"Right," you gulp down another chest full of air and follow his direction, "that's it?"

"And keep still. Tell me if you need a break. The pains a bit much at times so don't be afraid to speak up."

"Okay, sounds good," you try to settle in but your blood feels thick and your vision speckles with silver. Oh god, you're really going to do this.

"Don't hold your breath," he says, "really, I don't like my canvases passing out."

"Sorry."

"It's okay, you want something to drink before we start?"

"No, I'm good."

"Awesome," he says and grabs his gun, double checking the tip before moving back to your ankle. "Alright, I'll count down so you're not too surprised."

"Thanks," you fold your hands over your stomach as he positions your leg and bends forward.

He counts from three and you focus on not moving at the first stab of pain. Don't be a weak bitch. You grit your teeth and let out your breath as the gun buzzes loudly. The pain keeps a steady sear in your skin but you slowly get used to the sensation.

As he works, your eyes wander along the dark red walls and the artwork hanging all around. Tattoos in colour and black and white. The schematics of a tattoo gun. A falcon crest wrought in brass.

You hear the door open and the smoky voice of the other artist, Nat greets the newcomer you can't see past the pillar. The response is a deep, rocky timbre. You can only imagine the inked up brute behind it.

"Always with the notes," you hear a paper crinkle, "I'm the artist here, Rogers."

"Hey, I'm an artist too," the man counters lightly.

You peek over as the redhead woman appears on the other side of the pillar and guides her client through to her open workspace. An open curtain drapes against the wall at the other end of the shop. She sets down the page and tuts as she looks it over.

The man slides off a pair of dark sunglasses, black lenses with golden frames. He slips them into the pocket of his denim jacket and tugs at the sleeves. Their actions seem to be routine and you can see why. His arms are covered from wrist to shoulder in ink, a few smaller tattoos on his knuckles. Now you really feel out of place. 

"Sam, what's up?" The other client calls over as he hangs the denim on the coat rack.

"What's it look like, Steve?" Sam says, his eyes not leaving your ankle.

You take in the interaction silently. You're a stranger among the usuals. The poser getting their taste of artificial danger. Your ankle tweaks and you smother a grunt between your teeth. The noise catches the blue eyes of the man, Steve.

You quickly avert your eyes back to Sam and knot your fingers together. Steve's shadow moves away. The artist at your bench hardly seems bothered but gives a shake of his head.

"You want the curtain?" Natasha asks as she approaches the black drapes.

"Nah, you know I don't care."

Your eyes flick up as the man peels off his tank top. Wow. You blink rapidly and make yourself act normal. 

He lowers himself onto the leather seat as Natasha takes out her tools and starts sterilising. You once more force your attention back to Sam's careful work. It's going to take a while.

"You good?" He asks as he glances over, lifting the gun from your skin.

"Great," you murmur in an airy voice.

"Still nervous?"

"No, actually, kinda excited," you try not to speak too loud, overly mindful of the other client in the shop.

"Good," he hunches again and you suck in as he put the needle back to your skin. "So, what do you do? When you're not getting sick tats, that is?"

"Um, I, er, I teach. Music lessons."

"Music, huh? You seem like… the drummer type."

"Piano," you correct him, "I can carry a beat–" you pause to check the pain in your voice, "but I mostly teach piano."

"Classy," he remarks, "so, a poppy, any particular meaning to that?"

"Er, no, uh," you rub your neck nervously but make yourself quit moving, "it's my favourite flower."

"Pretty sombre fave but I get it," he remarks.

"Yeah, I guess…"

Your attention is drawn at the soft slap of skin and the rattle of metal. You look up as Steve retracts his hand and Natasha points at him with a sharp nail, "this is a sterile workspace."

He chuckles at her irritation and shows his palms before he sits back. He rolls his shoulders as he leans casually and twiddle his fingers against his jeans. Once more, your eyes meet and his mouth slants slightly. You gulp and look down again.

"So, any ideas for a second piece?" Sam asks.

"I think I'm gonna stick with one."

"Not gonna get a full bouquet?" He wonders.

"Not yet."

"Better get cozy, Rogers," Natasha says.

You look up as she sprays shaving foam onto his chest.

"You know this is my second home," he teases as he relaxes and she spreads the cream.

"Don't remind me," she grumbles as she takes a razor.

You tear away from your distraction once more. Gosh, it is painful. You don't know how people end up like him. Your tiny little flower will be more than enough for you.

You close your eyes and groan. Sam rests his hand on your calf. He squeezes as he pauses again.

"Need a break."

"No, keep going," you puff out.

You grip the side of the leather bench and bite down. You've always been a big baby. You bat away the gloss of tears threatening to confirm that and take another breath.

The subtle creak of leather pulls your gaze back across the room. Steve leans slightly around to see you past Nat as she shaves one side of his chest. You grimace and hide beneath your lashes.

Why is he looking at you like that? It must be amusing, someone like you in a place like that. Now you know this is definitely a mistake.

[zmb1eslut]

Luke Castellan x hypnos!fem

tags: non-romantic relationship, fluff, Luke's pov.

summary: Luke Castellan was found by the way out his nightmares.

1,6k words

-

Luke remembered it quite clearly, the night in which the whole... something between them came to be what is now.

He was sweaty and drained, being the only wishful thought he felt brave to feed, for the air to reach his lungs so he could run a little further. He had lost all his will, and he was now running on the only thing stronger than his determination, his fear.

Both Titan and kid could feel it, that night he was fated to succumb to the torture. His mind had already given its last pleadful breath when his foot tripped and his face met the floor. And he now cannot phantom the thought of how different his life would be if he hadn't lifted his head, she hadn't been there.

Luke saw her sitting, with a blank expression on her face, looking down at him. His hand reached for her never expecting to actually be aid, she took it and pulled him towards her. Once they were close to each other she said to him in a bizarrely sweet voice "Your screams were getting too loud". That was the last time the girl acknowledged his presence, as well as the last time he felt that sort of fear.

Somi kept rescuing him like that every night. She never explained why. Luke never asked her either. He would only sit there in what he guessed were the girl's own dreams, and wake up in the morning with just a thin grasp of the events.

Most things about the dreams (and the dreamer herself), were awfully confusing for the swordman-boy. He felt like she looked at reality with an eager infatuation, like she knew that guy better than the arbitrary rules that defined him ever could. Being inside her mind perhaps was making a number on him. Perhaps that's why she at some point stopped posing as the spacey buzzed girl everyone meditated with at times, and held herself in a homely sort of normality he developed a liking for.

She showed a part of her no one else ever saw. Altough it would probably be more precise to say she eventually stopped hiding it. Being honest with himself, Luke admitted that he toyed with the idea of him having found her.

She acted exasperated, bored, mean. She behaved like any person he would never mistake for her on the other world would behave. Their exchange right now was especially out of character.

She had entered his dream, as every night. She stepped in front of him and pushed his shoulders down, when he fell, he was met with the softness of a bed. Tonight's dream was apparently on a room. "Sorry for the mess." She said to the boy's surprise. He wasn't opposed to a change on their routine.

"Kinda used to it and all." he said. She answered with an understanding nod. "Did anything happen?" the Hermes boy asked just to keep this anomaly alive, to which she sighed.

"Evan just left." Curiosity flourished on the boy's throat.

"Like the real one?" the girl took way too long to answer and started stroking his hair while she thought.

"No... the dream one. But I'm pissed at him. And that's a naptime dream" she answered as if it was obvious. Even more questions arose, so she explained "Those are the dreams you aren't supposed to watch." Huh...

"What dreams I'm not supposed to watch?"

"You know, Castellan." she really meant it, he didn't had a clue. She got close to him to whisper teasingly, even knowing no one would really be able to hear. "The inappropriate ones" Oh.

He understood fast though, making sense of what teenager needs usually were. "I was naive on that one, wasn't I?"

"I mean..." she said chuckling while walking away from him. She sat down on a chair in front of a desktop. The place was humorously colorful.

"Ok. But like... Evan? Does that happen often?" He asked almost gossiply.

"I mean! Not anymore! He's a total prick." that made him laugh.

"Is he?" Luke asked, enjoying seeing her so annoyed, especially as he wasn't the cause.

"Yes. And you know what? I hate that, I hate this. Cause he goes around just getting the fuck he wants, and then pretends he 'didn't mean it like that'. Then I get mad, and he thinks I'm pretty when I'm mad, and I get pissed off when he says that, and then I'm horny when I'm pissed. And you know what? He doesn't deserve horny me." Sometimes she just was that unexpectedly honest. Luke just listened amused. She looked up and let out a frustrated groan. "And now I have to take care of you." That made him laugh, but he didn't want her to know that.

"C'mon I'm not that difficult" he pretended to be offended.

"No. But right now you're truly inconvenient" He put his hands up in the air as his sign of surrender before laying down in the bed. She stayed silent for a minute and Luke almost thought they went back to normal. The girl usually was quiet and still, looking lost into the air, or, only the contrary, highly invested in a task and barely paying him attention. Now she was neither, the chair was slowly spinning with her wearing a childish expression. She controlled every aspect of every scenario he had observed, and even when she didn't feel like going strong at it, she would prove her domain by popping something for him to distract himself. He took note of that when he saw a ray of sunlight entering the window, leaving a path she was now following in his direction. She was standing in front of the side of the bed again. "Sit." she said, way too used to having control over here. And, listen, he wasn't about to oppose an emotional all powerful being. Once he stood straight, she st looking taller than him, barely. She supported her arms on the top of his head. And sighed again. "I hate men".

"Oh, they are terrible" he teased.

She stayed silent for a bit, he was just being used as a table. Then he heard her. "What do you think about... weird". He understood perfectly.

"I've met so many demi kids, that word just simply lost meaning at some point"

"Ok, then..." she took a step back and looked at him now, lowering her head a bit. "do you consider me pretty?" He took a second to look at her, then shrugged and nodded. "Great then... tell me when to stop." She said while sitting on his lap, with both her legs at his left side, and reaching for his left hand. The girl held it against her face and started nuzzling against him. He couldn't ignore the thought that her actions weren't sexy at all, not as much as they were needy. She was like a cat looking for attention, and he truly didn't mind. He lifted his right hand to caress her hair, and she gave in to the touch. She had closed her eyes and moved the hand of her face down to her outer thigh.

His strong hand gripped her skin, almost performatively. He flirted using a lower voice. "What do you want?" his nose under her jaw, his breath against her neck.

The answer came only with her voice, as she didn't even bother to open her eyes or explore his touch. "I'll let you know when you're doing it wrong." Moody, bossy, and assertive. This was not more than a game for them. This was just a caprice. What is wrong with wanting things that feel right?

The girl held onto his left bicep and hid her face on his neck. They just stayed like that for a couple minutes. Somi hiding on his arms when Luke faintly felt the scent of her hair.

"Why did you rescue me?" wasn't enough to disrupt the comfortability of their scene.

"I already told you why."

"I wasn't screaming tonight."

Then the silence prolonged itself for longer than he would have chosen. The girl just gently pushed his body with hers, making them lay on the bed, side by side, looking into the ceiling.

"We... don't really know each other." He agreed with the sentiment on silence. "But, we both have been here for years so I know you know me." Of course he did. "And everybody knows you." He felt like he didn't quite know what she meant by it. "Luke 'the greatest swordsman in the last 300 years' Castellan, a born leader whose smile has infatuated half our population of half-bloods, who is always there to help when someone gets hurt."

Luke analyzed those words for a couple of seconds. Apparently not enough seconds. "Do you... like me?" She laughed.

"I don't mean it like that!" She then took a pause and moved her head to look at him, he followed. "What I'm trying to say is. There are so many children looking up to you, learning from your effort, going to sleep smiling because they know you'll be there to protect them, and when they fail... you don't make them feel like they failed you. I guess for a second I realized how much our spirit was relying on you. I thought maybe you needed someone to rely on too. I'm sorry if I'm making it awkward now." He didn't know how to answer, her eyes on his were feeling heavy for a second so he escaped by closing them. He didn't know how to answer so he just breathed and hugged her, hoping she wouldn't tease him about his heart rate. She didn't. She hugged him back.

[thosewildcharms]

thinking about how the ones who live is intentionally a love story and how everything that happens on screen functions to service that love story, and how they have done an incredible job at making that evident through rick's behavior. even (especially even) through rick's "programming" by the CRM.

he chopped off his own hand trying to escape and get back to michonne. and it didn't work. and he still did not give up.

in fact he was one hundred percent going to keep trying to escape forever ("I'm going home or I'm dying. that's it") until okafor revealed that he knew who his family was, how to find them, and that he'd kill them if rick ever escaped. that is the only thing that could get rick grimes to stop trying. okafor (and now jadis) is basically holding rick hostage by metaphorically holding a gun to michonne's head and threatening to pull the trigger if rick tries to get to her, or leave with her. which means he can never go home. he would never dare it. not if it meant risking their lives.

as a result he metaphorically killed himself. he says he "still decided to die" and in order to do that destroyed his letters to and sketches of michonne because as long as he had the hope of her he could not kill the part of himself that would try anything to get back to her. instead, he lets his mission become taking down the CRM to make the world a better place for her, without her ever knowing it.

even after he makes this decision, he still dreams of her - dreams of meeting her in a kinder world where he can casually propose on a park bench after meeting her once. he can never actually let her go of her.

from the moment he sees her again, every single thing he does is to keep her alive. from giving her a cover story and staging her crime scene on the spot, to immediately running interference with thorne. michonne is such an obvious, indisputable A, to the point where she cannot hide it despite making an effort. he knows the CRM would have killed her on site in that field, and are now watching her closely and can still decide to kill her at any time. his every waking moment is trying to think two steps ahead of them.

last episode, we saw rick step between michonne and the gun thorne was aiming at her. he also raised his gun on thorne when she reached for her knife to use against michonne. both times he covered it up by playing the part of a dutiful soldier (a role so completely against his character it horrifies michonne to witness it, just like it horrified rick to learn is dad did something so dishonest when he committed insurance fraud to save their family). everything he does - even becoming someone the love of his life cannot recognize- is to save her.

rick is standing between the metaphorical gun that okafor/jadis/the crm is pointing at michonne, his kid(s) and alexandria. when he says he belongs here and michonne doesn't, he's saying he already sacrificed himself (by metaphorically dying) so that he could take down the CRM, so she and everyone else could be safe. in his mind, it's too late for him - he's already caught, he's already gone, and he knows jadis has him by the neck. but he can get michonne out. even if it means making her hate him. it's the only way to protect her.

it's exactly what he did on the bridge - his life, his happiness, his needs, are always secondary to keeping his family safe. in that sense, rick grimes is very much still alive - doing this one last thing he can do to protect his family. I truly do not believe he is suddenly loyal to the CRM the way we see thorne has become. rather, he truly believes that he can never go home. all he sees is the huge, HUGE fucking gun pointed directly at michonne. if he leaves, there's no one to step in front of it. that is the how the CRM has him programmed. that's the mindset michonne will need to break him out of.

[goldfades]

angsty blurb w/Trevor🤭

you asked and you shall receive…

─ warnings | angsty asf, don’t say i didn’t warn ya! cheating, trevor is a fraternity ASSHOLE, just mean ass shit

you’d heard the stories about trevor but you’d chose to ignore them — and now, tears streaming down your eyes you really wish you hadn’t. giving him the benefit of the doubt multiple times after he’d shown you exactly who he really was, trying to ignore the warning signs.

as you sat there on his couch, tears cascading down my cheeks, you replayed every moment, every warning sign you had chosen to ignore. it started with little things, subtle remarks that cut deeper than they should have. each time, you brushed them off, convinced that beneath his rough exterior lay a heart of gold. the lies, oh the lies! they wove a web so intricate, so deceptive, that you found yourself trapped before you had even realized. he promised change, redemption, but now you realized it was all just another layer of deceit.

"her, trevor?" your voice came out quiet but fuming. "her?"

she was the complete opposite of you — looks, personality and everything else. and yet, despite the glaring differences between you, trevor had chose her. the realization cut like a knife through your already wounded heart. how could he betray you with someone so unlike you in every aspect?

her presence haunted you, her image etched into your mind like a scar you couldn't erase. you couldn't help but compare yourself to her, picking apart every flaw that made you feel inferior in trevor's eyes.

"i-i didn't mean for it to happen," he pleaded, his voice tinged with desperation. "it was a mistake, i swear. you know you're the one i love."

"you don't fuck other people when you're in love, trevor!" you shouted, your voice coming out shaky as you watched his expression change from emotional to slightly agitated, as if you were the one who was inconveniencing him.

"come on, don't be so dramatic," he scoffed, his voice laced with contempt. "it was just a mistake. you're blowing this way out of proportion."

his words hit you like a slap in the face, his lack of remorse fueling the fire of your anger but also deepening the wound. how dare he dismiss your pain so callously, as if his infidelity was something trivial?

"you did it more than once, trevor. you're a fucking traitor," your voice broke as you spoke, feeling all the emotions from the last 8 months come down on you. how did something so perfect, become something so terrible?

eight months of love, laughter, and shared dreams now felt like a cruel joke. the memories of happiness now tainted by the bitter taste of betrayal.

his expression remained indifferent, as if your pain meant nothing to him. it was a cruel realization that he was never the person you thought he was. the man you loved had been nothing but a facade, a mask hiding the true nature of his deceitful character.

with a deep breath, you squared your shoulders, meeting his gaze with determination. "i'm done, trevor," you declared, each word dripping with finality.

"oh trust me, you'll be back. like you always do," trevor's voice came out so bitter, you almost didn't recognize him. is that all you were to him? a mug, a girl who always came back? who was always there?

for a moment, doubt threatened to creep in, whispering its insidious lies in the nooks of your mind. had you really been so blind, so naive to believe in his empty promises over and over again?

but then, something inside you shifted. anger surged forth, fueling the flames. you refused to be reduced to a mere afterthought, a pawn in his selfish games.

"no, i won't," you countered, your voice firm. "i won't be, i deserve more than being treated like an option, like a backup plan for when it's convenient for you."

with that, you turned away, leaving trevor standing there, his words hanging in the air like a bitter echo.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[hermit-lover]

oooh okay! that's brilliant 'cause i had a request idea locked away n I love your writing n thought you would be perfect for it

if you are willing, my request is winged!grian preening winged!reader's wings n teaching them how to fly because they've never used their wings n always kept them hidden due to past experiences

you can change up the idea however you like of course

Teach me to fly

--------------------------------

Character: Grian x Winged!Reader

Type: Blurb (~1.8k)

Theme: Romantic, Hurt/comfort, healing

TW: Mentions of traumatic events, panic, exhaustion, insecurity, touch starved reader

A/N: Writing avian stuff is so much fun, and fluff with a side of angst? You are going straight for my heart. Couldn't fit flying in, but have cute preening content.

The sweater hangs uncomfortably, clinging to your limbs. Its cozy sure, but you wish it was gone. To feel the air on your skin. The bind across your chest tight, pinning the offending mounds of flesh down.

Your wings.

Rolling your shoulders, you continue to browse. What were you looking for? Right- fireworks. It was hard to focus nowadays, the soreness in your body and memories haunting. Pushing open the chest- you cringe as your ribs pull. A stack for one, and you start counting. Placing five in, you retrieve your goods, sending them into your inventory. A swoosh of air blows your hair out of place, fluttering the signs attached to the cart.

"Hey!" A voice chirps, over shooting before another swoosh lets them backtrack. A smile tugs on your lips, and you squint into the sky to try and spot the familiar blob. The flash of red approaches, landing on top of the cart. Red wings and blonde hair. Grian.

"Hi." You nod, "what's up?" You were always envious of the fact he felt safe enough to show his wings, and how perfectly the feathers fell. Brilliant mix of shining reds, stunning blues, and glowing green. Your own wings were tattered in comparison, black feathers rumpled from their misuse.

"Not much." He replies, tilts his head slightly, scanning your features. You try your best to look awake and upbeat, fighting against the fatigue. His eyes narrow and you can sense he's seen through your disguise. "How are you?" Grian places extra emphasis on you. You try not to flinch.

"Oh you know- I'm okay." You shrug, instantly regretting the motion. He hums. A small rush of air, and he lands down next to you. Clawed bird feet landing near silently.

"Just okay?" He asks, voice dropping. Pity. It was always pity.

"Yeah- I guess." Heat flushes your cheeks. He must think your stupid.

"Look at me." He requests suddenly, and you realize that you looked away. You obey. His eyes are soft, brows pulled together, and a small frown. It was the same face he made when he was worried. Wait...he was worried for you? No no no that's not right. A warm touch on your cheek makes you jolt back. "Sorry-" He apologizes, freezing. A hand was reaching for your cheek, sharp nails careful to not prick. He-he wanted to touch you. You had thought so much about him touching you. It was hard, you couldn't get to comfortable with physical contact- You slowly lean back. What was he planning? His palm is warm, soft and gentle. You try not to lean into the touch. "Im going to be honest." He starts, firm but calm.

"Okay." You whisper, aware of how hoarse your voice is. When did your throat close like this? Why were you so close to crying?

"I don't think you're okay." A brief flutter of panic clutches your heart. But...the look in Grian's eyes makes it quickly flee. Hot tears prickle in your eyes. He could read you so well. Somehow he picked up on your every little emotion time and time again. Despite you trying to hide. Lock them up so tight. He says nothing as you sob, ribs clenching and throbbing with the motion. You slowly recognize something within. The longing for touch. It was unusual for you, trying to hide your wings meant you had to refrain from any hugs, or fun handshakes, or casual leans, or cuddle piles, or sleepovers-

You lean into him, sagging into his arms and resting your head on his shoulder. He tenses briefly, then his hands move to cup your head, and rest on your back. You would protest- but you were too tired. It was a pointless battle. They would find out eventually and hate you. Its fine. May as well enjoy one hug. Tear flow freely as you cry, hands balling into the soft material of his sweater. It was everything you ever imagined. "I've got you." He whispers, hand resting on your back smoothing down- from the back of your neck, shoulders, and then freezing at the bottom of your shoulders. Where the base of your wings pressed awkwardly into your skin. He hates you. You didn't need to see his face to know that. Any second Grian would jerk away from you just like he did-

"You have wings."

...

It was...breathless, as if the realization punched the air from his lungs. Yet...it wasn't scornful. "You have wings!" He exclaims, leaning back to look at you, but still holding your waist close. What was he thinking? didn't he find you disgusting?

Delight lit up his features. Sparkling his eyes like when he's had a particularly good idea. Delight...he didn't hate you? "You didn't tell me!" He briefly frowns, but seems to excited to let it last. "Can I see them? Why do you have them all wrapped up? That has to hurt, is this the reason your upset?-" He starts fretting, moving away from you to try peek at the newfound limbs. You were stunned.

So he didn't hate you. Instead..he seems rather excited? There was no disgust or pity in the way he fluttered about, hands moving yet not touching out of respect. You say nothing, unable to formulate words to fully describe the situation. "We should go to my base!" He declares, "There you can show me them- its more private." He reaches for your hand like he would with any other hermit, then pauses. Remembering his manners. "That is...if you want?"

What did you want?

You wanted him to hug you again- that was given. You did want to get rid of the bandages, but the prospect of showing your wings was terrifying. But there was no hesitation from Grian, just acceptance and excitement. Maybe...maybe you could? He was an avian as well- even moreso then you. So maybe he would be okay? Plus- if you wanted anyone to know. You wanted Grian to know.

"I want to." The words sounded foreign on your tongue, as if you yourself were not speaking them. With it came a spark of excitement. Grian's grin couldn't be bigger, and he grabbed your hand. The contact made your head spin. The vague realization that he's touched you so much- and now that the cat is out of the bag- he'll touch you more.

He pulls you along, letting you walk in silence as your head spins with possibilities. What would he say about the colour of your wings? Black had always been frowned upon, its why others hated you so much. It was seen as an omen, bad luck, death. It was why you had stopped flying- although also because it brought an unfair advantage. You were just lucky they didn't cut off your wings.

"We're here." Grians voice makes you jump, "Sorry." he apologizes immediately. You shake your head in dismissal, gesturing for him to enter. Without missing a beat, he opens the door, nudges you in, and follows, closing the door. It was warm inside, you knew Grian had a weird thing with liking the warmth. Not that you minded, the calm, comforting atmosphere wrapped easily over your heavy mind. Easing some tension from your shoulders. Grian guides you to his bedroom, a place you've been only a couple times. Dropping in through the window to scare him, wandering in during a conversation. But now, it was...different. His soft grip leads up to sit on his bed. You sink into the many layers of blankets. The topmost one is fluffy and soft, you want to curl up on it and nap. Alas, you would get no such luck, as Grian stands in front of you expectantly. His clawed feet click against the wooden flooring as he turns to face you completely. You must have a look of your face, because Grian's eyes soften.

"You don't have to show me if you don't want-"

"I said I did." You snap back a little to quickly, cringing at your tone. "Sorry-" you take a deep breath, "I'm just nervous."

"Thats okay." He reaches forward slowly, giving you opportunity to pull away. When you don't, his careful palm rests on your cheek. Pulling heat to your face. "Turn around." He requests, and you obey. Tucking your legs up onto the bed, and shuffling around. Missing his hand when it leaves your cheek. "May I remove your sweater?" He asks, excitement clear in his tone, as he tries to stay calm for you. You nod, and shudder slightly as his fingers brush against your skin.

The garment is pulled up, and you help him by removing your arms. It's tugged over your head- and dropped into a heap on the floor. He sucks air through his teeth. A flash of guilt makes you cringe. He was disappointed. "...Why do you bind them?" He asks, sadness coating the tone. You can feel his claws brush against sensitive limbs and the wrapping pinning them down. Why do you bind them? Shame. Shame at their colour- what they stood for. The unfair advantage, and how he- the tightening in your chest reminded you bitterly of your last server. How poorly they handled your wings. You were disgusting.

"I hate them." You whisper, venom dripping from the words. "They make me disgusting."

"No." Grian says sharply. No? No?? "They make you beautiful- special." slowly, the pressure on your chest lessens, and you realize he's loosing the bandages. "They are something to be treasured, taken care of." you can feel your feathers settle as the binds leave. "You are so strong, and you deserve to be proud of them- you deserve to be proud of you."

"Grian." You shake your head, disbelief coursing through you veins. He was flattering you- he didn't really believe it-

"Spread your wings for me." He breathes, warm hand placed between where you wings meet on your back. Maybe it was an instinctual part of you to want to show off- maybe it was the way he said it- maybe it was the influence he had on you-

The limbs were painful and sore, shaking as you extended them. Yet, satisfaction burned. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the shiny black feathers. The silence hits you suddenly, and insecurity grows-

"You're gorgeous." Grian mutters, and heat flushes your cheeks. You want to tell him no- protest- but the sheer affection in his voice pushes the air from your lungs and coats your mind. You wanted to be doted upon- and here he was. Goosebumps prickle up your spine and across your arms as his fingers begin to deftly move. Sifting through the tattered feathers. You feel him remove one- a small sting of pain. When your wing's flutter he jerks back. "Sorry- I didn't ask-"

"What were you doing?" You interrupt, curious more then wanting him to stop touching you.

"I was preening you- its an avian thing where I remove all the broken feathers and clean the dirt out." He explains, no judgement in his tone. You hum, extending your wings to his mercy one again. He gets the idea- and the gentle movement returns.

It was mesmerizing. His gentle breathing, the darkness of the room, the soft sifting of feathers. His claws deft and smooth, removing some soreness and ache caused by your neglect. Shivers races up your spine, and relaxation grips your every limb. You find your head drooping- eyelids heavy. So much touch- it was wonderful.

"Sleepy?" Grian asks lightly, chuckling. You cant formulate a response, humming instead. He stops preening and you whine- he shushes you. "Lay down- lets nap." You can argue with that. Flopping forward you burry your face into that plush blanket. Grian's weight shifts the bed next to you, his wing brushes your own. Then, his arms pull you closer, nestling you against his side while his wings tangle in your own.

You've never cuddled anyone before- let alone slept next to them- and the warmth was almost too much. Exhaustion pulled down, and pleasant fuzziness encapsulates your being.

Grian didn't hate you. He loved your wings.

It would take a long time to get used to Grian knowing about your wings- and the physical contact that came with it.

But you were so excited.

[brooooswriting]

Writer's block :( Noooo

I hope following prompts help

" why wouldn't i save you? "

“ why is it so difficult for you to believe that you deserve to be protected? “

" i'm on my way. "

" get out of here! now! "

" it's all over now. don't panic. it's not my blood. "

with Tara (I don't quite remember if you write for her if you don't pick another <Jenna's preferably>character idm ;))

Now you don't have to use them all I just put them there so you can have options. Use as many as you want

I hope writers block goes away :)

And don't push yourself <3

Protective

Jenna Ortega x reader

Slight Scream 6 spoilers

A/N: I feel like this is a mess but have fun reading it Ig🫡

‘How the fuck did I get into this?’ Was a common question in your head at the moment as you were being chased by some psychopath with ghost face mask.

You were friends with Anika, have been for a while, and at the same time you were her tutor. You were two semesters above her and started tutoring to earn money, the girl who has seen you around every now and then was your third student. Somehow, along the line you guessed, it became some kind of friendship, which then pulled you into her friend group. Often you’d sit in her dorm and explain stuff when the whole group let themselves inside, talking loudly while you tried to keep her focused.

And while Anika was focused on anything but you, a certain brunette was focused on nothing but you. She stared at you the whole time, every time but when you tried to talk to her she acted cold. It was confusing and it makes the situation you were in right now even more confusing.

But, at some point you finally got her to talk to you, and she even asked you for help for her math class. It went great, she was extremely nice and friendly and you started to fall for the girl. It felt like she also fell for you as she’d always be with you. People barely saw you alone anymore, if one of you came it was pretty sure that the other one was gonna be there too. You often slept over as you fell asleep cuddling. It was perfect and you were staring to build up the confidence to ask her if she wanted to make whatever you guys had official.

Until she suddenly pulled away, Sam did too. Chad and Mindy were quieter and the only one who was still normal was Anika. You wrecked your brain, trying to figure out what you did, if you hurt Tara in any way or said something wrong, but nothing came to mind. Tara hadn’t talked to you in over 6 days, she ignored your messages and calls and changed her path when she saw you. Anika knew the reason but she didn’t tell you as she said that it was something the girl had to tell you herself.

It was during one of your tutoring sessions when you got a text from Tara asking you to come to their apartment but you agreed nonetheless, saying that you’d arrive in around an hour and a half. After the session you went and changed into some sweatpants before making your way towards the carpenters apartment, sending a quick ‘i’m on my way’ text. You were looking around the city, enjoying the quietness, well as quiet as New York could be, until you suddenly heard something shatter which caused you to flinch. You kept walking towards the sound, discovering that it came from a small store, another sound emerging from the store. A gun shot and a scream, the voice so sweet it could only be from one person, Tara.

You ran towards the store to see some dressed up fucker with a gun, you couldn’t see the brunette but decided that you’d have to act nonetheless. Quickly hiding behind the wall, you started to think of a plan, you knew the gun as it was the same one your grandfather had for when he went hunting, you knew that it was able to fit 7 bullets before you had to reload (I don’t know shit about guns, sorry:0). You had already counted four and two just followed now. You relaxed a bit when no sound followed the shots, it hopefully meant that the bullet didn’t hit anybody.

You looked inside again, finally seeing your crush and her sister as they were crawling on the ground trying to escape. The younger girl tried to shoo you away the moment she saw you but how could you leave when she was in danger?

The moment the 7th shot fell you started sprinting, the four years you played football finally being useful as you tackled the person to the ground. The two of you fell, you on top pushing the gun as far away as you could. You didn’t expect them to pull a knife from somewhere. They slit your arm causing you to fall back, giving them the advantage of being on top, the knife now slicing through the skin on your stomach. Tara’s scream could be heard throughout the entire store causing you to turn your head until you could see her, Sam was holding her back. You could see that she was trying to figure out how she could help you without risking Tara. “Get out of here! now!” You screamed as you were finally able to turn you and the person with the knife again.

Out of the corner of your eye you could see Sam pulling the smaller girl outside, relieve bubbling in your chest. For a small second you forgot what situation you were in. After a bit of wrestling you somehow got ahold of the knife, pushing it into their stomach around two times before you heard a sirens. The psychopath underneath you suddenly threw you off with newfound strength and disappeared, police started swarming inside only to find you with a bit of blood smeared on you.

“Why’d you save me?” Tara asked you as you sat in a cop car on your way to the station, Sam in the front you and Tara in the back. “Why wouldn’t I save you?” You were so confused, the girl grew so much on you that just the thought of her getting hurt broke your heart. “Are you fucking stupid? You put yourself in unbelievable danger, youre crazy, out of your mind” she said with a raised voice, “yeah, I put myself in danger to safe you, I didn’t do it for nothing” you answered trying to keep your cool.

“That’s what I just said! You’re crazy, you were ready to sacrifice yourself for someone like me. Do you know how crazy and stupid that is?” She kept on talking about how stupid you were for doing something like that for someone like her. It went on until you arrived inside the police station where you decided to put an End to it, you had listened to her degrade herself for over 10 minutes now and it was enough.

“Why is it so difficult for you to believe that you deserve to be protected?” You asked her, your voice raised this time. The way she talked about herself made her angry. “Because I don’t” she screamed back as some officer lead you into an interrogation room. “Who made you believe that shit?!” You asked, your voice still loud but this time Tara only looked down. You added a ‘huh?’ to finally make her answer but it only caused Sam to speak up.

“Y/n, I think that’s enough” she tried to keep her calm as she understood both sides and at the moment she was only happy that you were there to save them. “No Sam, I wanna know who made her feel like that so I can kill them for doing that to her” you countered, maybe that wasn’t the smartest thing to say at that moment but you were so full of hate that you didn’t think straight. “I already did” you turned to Tara, your face filled with surprise. “Amber, my ex girlfriend, was the ghost face in the attack that happened last year. She used me and my trust, so she could kill me and Sam. She killed two of my best friends, our sheriff, she nearly killed Chad and Mindy and I shot her when she tried to kill Sam. All these people were in danger because I trusted her! That’s why I don’t deserve to be protected. Everybody who is around me is in danger! You shouldn’t even talk to me but you wouldn’t leave me alone!” Tears fell from her eyes as she explained, Sam was also quietly sniffling behind you.

“You can’t really think that” your voice was the complete opposite of what it had been just a couple of minutes before, it was soft and quiet, soothing. You kneeled in front of her, your hand carefully landing on her knee while the other one reached up to caress her cheek. She melted into your touch causing your heart to skip a beat. “What that girl did to you was terrible and what these people are trying to do to you now is just as terrible. But it’s not your fault, these people are crazy and psychotic, they shouldn’t be living freely. And if you think that I didn’t know who you were is kinda cute, I heard some people talk about it in class, but the thing is, I didn’t care. Because I got to know the real you and whoever says that you and Sam are crazy killers or some shit do not know you. You are amazing Tara and if you ask me, you’re totally worth dying for. I mean it”

Your thumb wiped away her flowing tears before she threw herself at you causing you to crash to the ground. Her arms wrapped around your neck as she sat on your lap with her face buried in your neck. “You knew who I was the whole time and didn’t say anything?” She pulled her head away as she spoke to look at you, “well, I figured the topic would make you uncomfortable, so I didn’t say anything. I guessed that you would talk about it once you’re ready” you told her as your hands stroked her back. She leaned forward and planted a kiss on your lips. “Once this is over, we are going on a date”

“Yes ma’am”

You couldn’t wait for this to be over

————————————————————————

So this kinda sucks but if I try to rewrite it I’ll never finish it and it will just sit in my drafts forever. Sorry

[hard-core-super-star]

May I please request something for Kate Bishop x reader? Even a part two for your latest Kate fic almost.

Reader hangs up her suit and stops being SpiderWoman after losing May, and both Kate and Yelena can see her starting to spirl. (Maybe Yelena helps her with the anger and grief of losing May.)

i'm all skeleton and melody [K.Bishop]

pairing: kate bishop x parker!reader; (platonic) yelena belova x parker! reader

summary: kate calls for backup when she realizes how underprepared she is to help you deal with your grief over losing may.

warnings: mentions of character death [mainly may but there's a quick natasha mention, i'm sorry]; heavy mentions of grief + references to depression; smaller serving of angst with a huge side of hurt/comfort and yelena being supportive in her own way; kate being a golden retriever gf who doesn't know how to stay

wordcount: 1.6k

a/n: can i just say good grief is one of my favorite fics i've written so a request for a part two was a wonderful surprise? i've gotten attached to a lot of my mini-universes but this one is special to me. yelena has a bigger role in this part because i said so :) also, the gif above was my inspiration for one of the scenes and i think it shows lmao. anywho, hope you enjoy <3

* * * * * * *

People always talk about the five stages of grief but what they fail to mention is that grief is a never-ending cycle.

Sometimes you can reach anger and go right back to denial. Or reach acceptance and fall into depression again. Reaching the end just means you’re ready to fall back to the beginning and start fresh once more.

People make it out to be a process, and in many ways, it is, but it’s not an easy one to deal with. Even when you have loving and supportive people by your side.

Sometimes, having those people around can actually make it worse.

Which is how you wound up where you are right now, locked up in your and Kate’s shared bedroom, refusing to get out of bed or even open the door to your kind-eyed girlfriend.

Your guilt about shutting the archer out, literally and emotionally, is overshadowed by the pain that grips your chest every time you breathe. Pain that nothing can take away, not even Kate Bishop.

The truth is, you started slipping the second May died. You tried to hide it, and you honestly succeeded, until it became painfully obvious that you were ignoring the Spidey suit hanging in the back of your closet.

Any time Kate or Yelena asked, you mumbled something about how you were taking a break. It was more than understandable…until said “break” turned into you not eating, not sleeping, and shutting both of them out of your mind and heart.

Yelena handled it the way she handles most things, by silently watching until she found all the signs that told her you really weren’t doing well. Kate, on the other hand, did not handle it as well or as casually as her blonde best friend.

It would have been annoying if you didn’t love her as much as you do. She meant well, there will never be a doubt in your mind about your girlfriend and her clumsy yet good intentions. Her sad looks were more than you could handle, though, and her whispers of encouragement only served to remind you of what you lost.

So, when it became painfully obvious she couldn't help you on her own, she did the only thing she could think of. She called Yelena and begged her to talk you down from the metaphorical ledge you’re on. The one that told you you didn’t deserve to be Spiderwoman anymore, not when you were responsible for the death of the only family you had left.

“y/n!” Your self-deprecating spiral comes to a stop the second you hear Kate’s voice again. “I know you can hear me. Please, babe, just let me in.”

You can hear the tears that cling to her eyes even through the door that separates you. It should be a reminder of how much your girlfriend loves you but in reality, it only furthers the disdain you hold for yourself right now.

The warmth of the blanket you’re hiding under is no replacement for Kate’s strong embrace but you can’t find the strength to get out of bed. It’s not like you’re happy about it but you can’t do much to lift the heavy weight of grief that holds you down.

At least not on your own.

You can barely make out the sound of the archer’s voice but you don’t understand the word she says. Much less who she’s saying them to.

“I just want to help,” she says for the fifth time, earning herself yet another one of Yelena’s eye rolls.

“Yes, I know, you have said that a million times already.”

“I just don’t understand why I can’t go in there with you. She’s my girlfriend.”

“y/n isn’t in a good mental place, Kate Bishop. You will only get hurt.”

“Isn’t that exactly why I should be there? I’m supposed to be the one taking care of her when she’s not doing okay.”

“Put the puppy eyes away, you’re staying outside.”

“Fine…But-”

“No.”

The hushed sound of voices turns into the tell-tale sound of the doorknob being messed with. You assume Kate is attempting to pick the lock again so you merely sigh and turn onto your back, staring at the ceiling and trying to erase May’s face from your mind.

You feel a familiar exhaustion starting to creep in when the bedroom door slams open.

“I thought you said you were going to pick the lock!”

“Do not be a baby about it, Kate Bishop, you’re rich.”

“It was a nice door.”

The ghost of a smile appears on your face at Kate’s complaint but the reaction is more subconscious than anything. It’s almost like your body reacts instantly to your girlfriend even while your mind is struggling to stay afloat.

“Stay.” You miss the glare Yelena throws Kate’s way but the sound of footsteps approaching manages to register in your mind.

Your first instinct is to hide despite how ridiculous of an idea it is. You reach for your blanket and throw it over your face to cover your tired eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

Yelena sighs but makes no attempt to force you to face her. She may act like a jerk sometimes but she cares a lot about you and Kate…mainly you but the archer doesn’t need to know that her playful insults aren’t always completely playful.

“y/n,” the blonde says softly as she sits down next to you. “I do not want to be the one to tell you this but your girlfriend is losing her marbles over you.”

“Yelena!”

The Russian mumbles some curse words you don’t fully understand before continuing. “How do you live with her? She is more annoying than her dog.”

“Don’t bring Lucky into this,” you murmur, deciding only to speak up to protect the loyal dog’s honor.

“I would say I’m sorry but I am not. It’s nice to see you’re still alive.”

You don’t remove your (literal) safety blanket but you feel Yelena’s hand find your own over the fabric. A moment passes before you stick your hand out and allow the blonde to intertwine her fingers with yours.

It’s a wordless action and yet it brings tears to your eyes. You’re not sure how or why but you don’t dare fight against the emotions that gather in your grief-stricken body. “I wish I wasn’t.”

“You don’t mean that,” she replies, no traces of her usual sarcasm in her tone. “You’re just upset.”

The word doesn’t even begin to cover how you feel. It’s like your mind is painfully aware of how alive you are while your body is more than happy decomposing within the four walls of your bedroom.

“Try devastated.”

Yelena either doesn’t understand what you mean or she happily accepts the replacement. “Okay, you’re just devastated. Staying inside isn’t going to bring her back, you know?”

“You’re one to talk,” you mutter despite how harsh your words truly are.

Fortunately, the Russian might be the only person you know who is able to take that harshness in stride. “You’re right, I did awful things when I learned what happened to Natasha. But I didn’t do it for her. I did it for myself. Because I thought it was the only way to cope.”

You take the words for what they are, a reminder that you’re not alone. That you’re not the only person to almost succumb to the powerful anger hidden within the sadness and regret. What happened to May is miles away from what happened to Natasha, though, and somehow the comparison only makes things worse.

“It’s my fault she’s dead.” All the tears you had been holding back finally fall, forcing you to accept the reality you’ve been trying to escape from all these days. “I got my mom killed.”

“Don’t say that. You don’t know that-”

“Of course, I know that.” You use your free hand to pull the blanket down and finally face Yelena’s affectionate gaze. “Who else is to blame if it’s not me?”

“Try the homicidal maniac with a glider.”

Yelena groans and the familiarity of the scene helps to ease some of your pain. “What happened to staying outside, Kate Bishop?”

“y/n needs me.”

The words are simple in nature and they’re nothing you haven’t heard before but the reaction they bring out of you isn’t one you’re used to.

Thankfully, Kate crosses the space between you without you having to say anything.

Yelena tries to move away but you tighten your grip on her hand before she can get too far. She rolls her eyes at you but accepts the silent request, choosing to remain seated by your side while Kate literally climbs on top of you.

“You guys are strange.”

You’re too focused on the relief of having your girlfriend’s body back on top of you to argue back.

The archer lazily wraps an arm around your middle while her head rests on top of your shoulder so she’s able to glare at her best friend. They only last a few seconds before they start arguing about something so you close your eyes and let the sound of their voices drown out the memories that threaten to come back.

“Hey.” Kate’s voice is a mere whisper against your tear-stained cheeks. “I love you.”

You don’t have to open your eyes to be able to see the sincerity she exudues with every breath she takes and every look she gives you.

“I love you too.”

It’s not nearly enough to get rid of all your pain but it’s enough to remind you what you’re fighting for every day. You’re fighting for the ones you love. Even the ones you’ve lost.

And maybe fighting won't bring them back but you don't need to. Being with the ones you have left is more than enough for you.

[ghoulphile]

no but like you're so right walton says that cooper thinks of barb as "the devil incarnate" in that interview and she may as well have sold her soul the second she made that proposition and like you said, it's so tragic... in ep8 when he demanded hank for the location of his family, you just sorta already know he's only trying to get janey back and in the mean time, mess up the corporate scum that sent the world (his world) to hell - barb being one of them what kind of love is there when it meant subjecting the human race to nuclear warfare, all for the sake of profit and the idea of becoming "new rulers" of the surface? his love was shattered into bits, left him a broken and bitter man because of a wife who severed that trust not to mention, the awful betrayal that resulted from this that forced cooper (as the ghoul) to do stuff he wouldn't have done if things were simply different ughjdsjs 😵‍💫 i just think it's neat writing... lots of tots bc i feel he sees so much of that hurt in lucy too which sets up for thick character potential in s2 anyways sorry this got long ily thank u for hearing me out

1000%!!!

i remember there was a walton interview going around too where he sees lucy's naivety and wants to poke at her because of it. with all of their similarities and parallels, she's a reminder of who he used to be at the beginning of this all - the soft, squishy parts of himself he's had to kill (or hide) in order to survive the wasteland.

the golden rule seems to be something he lived by pretty strictly pre-war, and lucy is unfettered by all the horrors surface dwellers face. she is very much a living timecapsle of a universe that no longer exists and very few people remain who remember it (cooper being one).

there's this moment - i cant remember which episode but i noticed it during my first watch and it hurts just as much every time i re-watch - but it's when cooper is doing the vault tec ads for the first time, and puts on the suit.

after greeting the exes he pauses to ask if the suit really blocks radiation like they say it does - the exes look at barb who narrows her eyes and gives a little nod, GIVES THEM THE GO AHEAD TO LIE RIGHT TO HER HUSBANDS FACE BC SHE KNOWS IF HE KNEW THE TRUTH OR IF THERE WAS ANY DOUBT TO THEIR VALIDITY, HE WOULDN'T BE DOWN TO ADVERTISE!

And that just gut punches me every time bc Cooper has such a strong moral code, and its taken advantage of so often and so easily by so many people (including the ones that are closest to him).

And we see that in Lucy.

She always wants to do the right thing, wants to abide by the idea that everyone is inherently good and just. That no one has ulterior motives and people can be taken at face value.

JUST AIGHDJHKLSGFUYS IDK WHERE IM GOING BUT YESS!!! I have soo many thoughts about so many of the characters lmao. I'm so excited to see what they do with season 2.

ALSO I LOVE HEARING FROM YOU NO NEED TO APOLOGIZE❤️!!!

[lizaluvsthis]

I feel like they're doing a lot of episodes centered around 3 and 4's relationship as of recently, like almost every episode ever since WOTFI 2023 has in some way been about 3 and 4 in some way, they're definitely cooking up something...

Would be weird to be doing a lot of episodes cented around one of the protagonists and a tritagonist's relationship without a reason...

Yes I've noticed that, it's why I randomly show up in a constance of space to ramble about these ga- i mean- 'friends.'

Ive had me suspicions on randomly show ups with SMG3 because it is never unlikely we get this much of episodes with SMG3 in it. I feel like something would go wrong about Three's most appearnce as a tritagonist role from his character.

I'm aware of what would have the consequences to happen in the future, once he gets involved with the Adware themself. Either be possessed. Either d-e. We're not sure about this because when we mostly used the Axol theory who existed in the seasons and d-ed.

The protagonist which is Melony, were his loving partner who were to suffer the most from grief. Besides me mentioning them. I really do feel like they are trying to hint something that SMG3 will be a more focused main character in the series.

We never know when the arc will happen soon. But just for me to say, I noticed not a while back is that. Back before the new designs or even wotfi 2022. Lets get to the older episodes where SMG3 specifically appears around the episodes which as the months of March, October, or even Jul- June? Was it?

We're both not sure about this because with the new episodes been released that included smg3. It seems to me that they've broken the schedule whenever smg3 gets to be in a month where he is in other episodes. But the new ones could be making us think harder with it.

It wouldn't be weird for me to call but too "skeptical" for me that they'd release a season filled with SMG3 dump from other episodes in everywhere.

I doubt that they're only putting this so that the tritagonist can get some attention from the fans. When he'd already been considerately part of the SMG4 Crew members.

He'd play as a focused one because why the hell not? This is SMG3 and SMG4 we're talking about and there is no denying that they will both end up in something important.

Like any other with Axol and Melony's Bond.

Because it's more different with these two. They both have a slow form of chemistry during the years. And therefore is slowly having to form into something else.

Call me crazy or insane one last time or again and again, but I'll have to put on.

"SMG3 is being put in the episodes because he'll be more of a valuable person to appear mostly in the near upcoming 'strange' event."

Even if he were to call as a villain, he is still a tritagonist. He is there with his boy- i mean- FRIEND. To be there with. To return a favor. And have something that he's hiding to yet reveal.

But with his insignificant torture with people, his line never ends when he kept calling SMG4 "Baka" in the other episodes there-has-been.

SMG3 can never go back because he's already there, his appearance meant everything from the entire fanbase/community.

Because everyone here is now making these bunch of unexplained theories where it can have the possibilities for him to di- i mean- possessed. Or something angsty would happen in the further future.

But we'll never know that in a certain fact.

Unless it'd be more serious...